“No…” Malcor felt he screamed it but the word barely squeaked out of his mouth.
Crea smiled and suddenly, Ishan his old master from Klenna stood before him. “Well Mal, you’ve had a hard day’s work here. Good job. Lets go grab some food and celebrate! You did it!” A strange man stood next to Ishan, probably a new apprentice or helper. The newcomer said, “C’mon, you had your first perfect day and look beat. And you finished your second rite! Way to go! I bet a kettle full of meat stew is what you want! Ora made it.”
Suddenly, the image vanished and Malcor found himself back in the blood-soaked combat rune. His feet rooted to the stage, unmoving. Crea's eyes bore into his soul and Malcor knew what he'd see if he went to the River. “Dar Kendra, his force of will is sufficient for the lich, for a short period of time, provided he is not exhausted and near death like he is now.”
She nodded. “Good, lets start at the beginning then.”
Crea’s hands abruptly sprouted talons which he buried all five in the prisoner’s chest. Amidst a blood spray, the man said, “But, but, you are my friend…” and died. The lifeless body slumped, held by Crea’s talons.
Under Crea's flat and emotionless stare, unholy light filled the corpse. While Malcor did not understand what Crea did or how it happened, when Crea spoke, he understood well enough. “Slay the knight,” Crea ordered the still impaled body.
The zombie corpse pulled itself from Crea’s fingers and turned to attack. Like the other zombies he faced, Malcor raised his symbol and ordered obedience. As he felt the zombie’s will slip away, Crea did something and the zombie’s will surged. Malcor fortified his own and it surged again, morphing into a ghoul. Just as Malcor took control of the ghoul, Crea flooded the ghoul with necromantic magic and it morphed into a wraith, then a desiccated mummy, then a shadow. The shadow spun free in the combat rune and a tendril touched Malcor, who fell to his hands and knees.
Dar Kendra said, “Shadows cannot be controlled. They are too connected to the anti-realms. Stop trying to enforce obedience and focus instead on destroying it.”
The light from the Queen’s symbol finally connected with the shadow and he appeared to be making progress, when Crea did something else and the shadow became corporeal and a vampire rose up. Dar Kendra ordered Malcor to slay it while Crea whispered to the vampire… “All this pain, all these changes, it is this human’s fault. He imprisoned you. He chose you to come here to die and die and die. You’ll never see the sun again. Your loved ones will curse your name and spite the day they heard your name. Your crimes are unforgivable because of this man. Kill him! Kill. Kill.”
The vampire, goaded by these words and whatever images came with them, turned a berserker flurry of attacks at Malcor. For a moment, all Malcor could see was a tornado of bladed fingers and then it withdrew just enough for Malcor to appreciate how wounded he was. The vampire licked the blood from its claws and, like Crea had, “Malcor, you look weary. Let me give you rest! Just relax and notice the blood from your wounds, how it drips and pools. It is warm. Let me warm you.”
Without meaning to, Malcor realized the vampire had taken his head and tilted it back to expose his neck from the protective edge of his gorget’s steel. Razor fangs opened. His mouth would not move, so Malcor prayed in his mind to the Queen and with every ounce of his power, called for Righteous Might. His sword lay dropped several feet away. It twinkled and reappeared in Malcor’s hand, spearing the vampire through its head. He let the vampire fall back with his sword embedded in its skull and then, freed of the attempted mind control, stood and commanded it back to his hand. In a smooth stroke, he decapitated the vampire… except that as his sword struck, Crea did something and the vampire transformed to dust. The dust coalesced and flew back over to Crea, and then began reassembling itself. Unlike the cold hate of the vampire, or the dispassionate hunger of the shadow, this new form regarded Malcor with an insane intelligence and murderous intent. A sword and shield materialized on the form’s hand and arm as Crea said, “He is responsible for all your pain and humiliation, Revenant.”
Without word or hesitation, the revenant attacked Malcor. Dar Kendra must have allowed healing because Malcor felt what had to be the last healing he could tolerate and then fully joined the fight. Malcor found that even with the River’s help, he could barely parry the creature’s attacks. The more tired he became, the more the River's abrupt shift in perspective became a disadvantage, and somehow the revenant was there too. "Like a shadow, revenants and wraiths aren't entirely of this world. As such, the River does not really advantage you. Their lack of free will hinders them being entirely effective there though."
Cut, slice, and bruising wound after strike and then Malcor knew he was done. He had been thrown backwards spinning on his back on the blood slick floor. The revenant stalked him and had somehow acquired Malcor’s sword in his other hand. If Malcor had wounded it, he could not tell. He knew he would die. The revenant raised both swords and made ready to take his life. The madness of its glee unnerved him. Though he had died before, this time seemed different like he had failed a test and in front of so many others he wanted to impress. Like R’Dar Tor, he wondered where the rage and fury was that would drive him to somehow win.
He felt nothing. The swords sliced down and Malcor’s world went black. Crea looked down at him, standing where the revenant had been. Dar Kendra walked over and looked down as well. She smiled. “The true test of a revenant is that they most want you to suffer like they do. Every second, you are called by their madness to take your own life in despair and futility. That you fought with no such indication means we are done with this part of the test. Later, when there is more time, you can do the more deliberate and controlled test at the Temple.”
Crea added, “Each undead inspires a different kind of fear. Lower level undead inspire disgust at the after-death state of decay. It is so nasty. This horror of seeing one's own decay can overwhelm normal humans. Ghouls and their like inspire dread at the savage ending of life. Vampires urge you towards a beautiful death and the beauty of immortal youth despite the consequences. You just experienced the revenant. They want you to ache for your own death to end the horror of living. The lich, well, they are all about subjugation and saving your life through pleasing the lich. All of these stack up until you reach the Hellhounds and the Jade God. Though demons and devils can use the same influences. As a paladin, you can become immune to these, but it begins with learning and recognizing these for what they are – lies. But, just like a weapon, those lies can kill.”
Tembri helped Malcor sit up. His body felt cold and frantic. Tembri realized he could not move even his fingers. “My lady Kendra, Sir Malcor is done. Right now, a chill breeze would take his life.”
Dar Kendra turned and said, “Thank you all for enduring these five days of training and fighting. We had planned for three, just in case. No one has ever lasted longer than three. Malcor lasted five days and taxed all of you almost as much we tested him. You have all done well. A special thanks to Crea, Malcom, and Nineveh for their help with this last bit. Tembri, please assist Malcor with recovery. In fourteen hours, we gate to Ori.”
Tembri carried Malcor to his room. Malcor asked, "Has it been three days?" Except those words came out as unintelligible garble. "I couldn't even berserk," he tried to add, but Tembri shushed him.
“Mal, you lasted five days. No one has ever done that. Your healing tolerance is –“ but Tembri’s words also turned to fog. It all passed in a dizzy haze, but at some point, he was cleaned and bathed, and fed. When he at last awoke in his bed, hunger struck him and he stood to grab some food, and collapsed. Ora tried to move him but he fell asleep on the floor, and after struggling, she let him be.
Some hours later, Ora screamed to Tembri sleeping on the couch. "He's not breathing!"
Tembri jumped up and ran towards them. Malcor, beyond fatigue from days of combat and healing, lay unmoving but also unbreathing. He face, lips, and skin had taken a dark greyish cast. A t
rail of spit rolled from his lips. Ora had begun praying, "I had a dream Tembri, of his death. I think this is recent." Amidst her prayers, a tear fell from her eye and dripped on Malcor's face.
Tembri half-expected a miracle and her healing prayer to work, but Malcor was so far beyond healing; he had drained all of the stand-by healers during this trial, and taxed Tembri and the other battle priests too. Tembri elevated Malcor's legs and anxiously waited to see if the boy would respond to Ora's blessing. "Ora, he won't take anymore healing. Try a blessing or fortitude prayer instead. His constitution is gone." Stepping to the River, Tembri saw Ora there cradling the tiny spark of Malcor's aura. It pulsed chaotically threatening to blow out. Dark snakes of black ink reached across the River towards the boy, something Tembri had never before seen. The aura had a feeling of dragonterror to it, but there was no time to study it. Being dragonterror, Tembri prayed to the Goddess and hoped for the best.
"Ora, there's a technique we use in combat. It will restart his heart and maybe save him. It's very violent though. When you are done, you must let him go and not touch him." After a few more moments of prayer song, she reluctantly let Mal's head go and scooted back. Tembri closed his eyes and began chanting in draconian, something from the Book of Lightning but Ora struggled to make out the words. Tembri was mispronouncing them and she understood that he changed the blessing. First one and then many arcs of red lightning swarmed around and through Tembri's fist until the buzzing sound of energy and power was all she could hear. Dimly, through the River, she saw Verit and his battle priest enter Malcor's room and lend their strength to Tembri.
Suddenly, mid-syllable and dissonant song, Tembri opened his fist and slapped it against Malcor's chest. The red lightning electrocuted the young knight. From the River, it looked like a firework show of light centered on Malcor's twitching and seizing form. Tembri raised his hand into a fist and then slapped it down again, and again. "Once more my Queen!" Tembri screamed and he drew all of his own and Verit's priest into his fist and punched it into Malcor's heart. Ora winced seeing his ribs crack. Holding it through, Tembri injected electricity into his heart in a pulse-like rhythm. She saw his aura respond, still weak and flickering, but the chaos calmed and began mirroring Tembri's rhythm.
He held it for a few minutes and Ora felt and saw Verit's priest collapse, just barely caught by the paladin. Somehow Tembri held on and Ora gave her strength to him. She felt another source of strength and noticed, for the first time, the extensive tattoos along Tembri's side. From the River, they were laced with bloodstone dust and seethed with power. That's how he held on. "You have a bloodstone?" she whispered as he latched onto her offered power.
Verit set his priest to the side and ran out calling for help. Tembri held onto Malcor's pulse minute by minute as more battle priests from the Order arrived. Watching Malcor's heart struggle, she saw Tembri's aura weakening as the electrical storm in his hand kept Malcor alive. As priest after priest gave Tembri their might, and fell, despair clouded her heart and she resigned herself to watching this knight's death. "I will not be a deathwatch," she whispered to the Queen.
"No," a sinuous dragon voice answered her back from the other side of the River. "The boy will live. He is mine." Dragonterror came with that voice and for the first time in her life, Ora felt what others must feel around the dread lords. A black tendril, she focused and saw it as a claw, reached through the lightning and touched Malcor. The electricity stopped, everything stopped. Tembri frowned at the voice and the dark energy, but when it let go of Malcor, his heart moved on its own and a ragged gasp of air moved through his body. Grey energy suffused his aura and then the ragged breath became deep gulping of air. Ora fell back weeping. Even Tembri choked and then quietly sobbed.
Much later, Tembri shook Malcor awake in his bed. Ora stretched out next to him and he tried to smile. Something was off in both their faces though and he frowned. The dim light in his room was too bright. Concern and sadness mingled with hope. Was that what he saw? "You had a rough night," Tembri said. "We almost lost you." He held up his hand where capillaries and veins had ruptured throughout his skin. "Don't worry Malcor, your entire body and face look like that. Too much combat, exhaustion, and healing fatigue caught up to you. Your heart stopped. If Ora hadn't caught you right in that moment."
His whole body hurt. Hunger and nausea tore at him and vertigo made the room spin. He tried to focus on Ora.
Her bright eyes gleamed at him, and he saw she had been crying, and she said, "It's time for you to leave me. You look awful, we look awful, but Malcor, our time together was wonderful for me. You'll hear about priestesses taking knights for any number of reasons. I'm not like that. By the way, you excelled. To last five days is a new record I believe. As a Kell, they thought you might beat the record and set the target at three days. We actually delayed our departure for your test!"
Ora helped him stand and Malcor looked at himself in a mirror. His veins stood out black against the all-over purple bruise of his body. His eyes appeared wet and red where his whites should have been. He looked at his hand in the light and marveled at how clearly the individual muscles, tendons, and even bone shapes could be made out. Compared to Ora's flawless and nearly nude body, Malcor looked like a zombie.
Tembri walked off to get some food and said, “You fought for five entire days Sir. Healing Fatigue and continuous action like that melts all the fat and water right out of you. I’d guess that you’re at least half sustained by healing magic right now. You’ll flesh back out, but it’ll take weeks.” Tembri put a goblet of milk in his hand and walked off to retrieve his clothing and armor. “You’ll be prone to dizziness and will likely fall asleep - a lot. Based on what we saw, I expect that it will be at least three weeks before you’re near peak again and maybe months before your body recovers its full weight.”
Malcor sipped the milk and ate some food, finding that his hunger knew no bounds. “I feel like I could eat an entire feast!”
Tembri chuckled, “You’ll probably feel that way for most of your recovery. Don’t worry. This is a known thing that happens with Healing Fatigue. You'll have food, rest, and if you fall asleep don't stress it. Even if you're talking to the King. Even the king went through this. You will not offend anyone.”
Tembri checked Malcor’s gear, making adjustments here and there to account for his emaciated form. At last, he indicated the time had come. Malcor summoned his armor and sword feeling too tired to walk over and remove it from the alcove in the corner. He noted it had been cleaned, mended, and polished to like new condition. Tembri hefted a large backpack and slung a duffel bag over his shoulder. He passed over a smaller duffel bag, carefully designed to not interfere with armored movement and sword play. Tembri explained that the duffel bag contained the minimum essentials Malcor would need to survive for about three days if separated from the group.
Walking to the chapel proved almost too much for Malcor and he had to stop several times and catch his breath. “I feel like I just climbed a mountain…” he sighed. Eventually, they walked into the chapel. A mage’s guild representative, at least the robes made it look that way, and a few others he had not met before stood on the stage along with the entire Order of Water and each of their three battle priests. Malcor and Tembri’s support priests awaited. Though only five steps mounted the stage, Malcor had to steel his will to ascend and struggled to mask his exhaustion.
Tembri whispered to Malcor, “Everyone here who participated with you is also trying to hide their fatigue. Don’t worry. It’s normal.”
“If that is true, then why are you trying so hard to appear unaffected Tembri?” he snapped back harsher than he intended.
Chapter Twenty Three – The Order at Ori
Tembri grinned and pointed towards Dar Kendra where she walked onto the stage. A Dar rank priestess walked beside her along with two other healers. With interest, Malcor noted that the other two were not clerics of Takhissis. Dar Kendra walked into the center and said, “It is not of
ten that so much power is assembled together for an epic quest. Let us pray.”
They all turned to the goddess statue, and Malcor noted the gleam from his statuette in the same alcove. Kendra began but a sinuous male voice overspoke her. Dar Kell walked from the alcove and raised his hands over the group and prayed to the Goddess, speaking to Her as if She stood amongst them in the group.
“Mother, your children have come together to bear your name to the southern kingdom of Ori. While Ori does not serve you yet Mother, they honor the ways and might of your children. They steward part of your throneplane and do well in the eyes of the dragons. They are beset by a lich and an army that threatens them and they have sought our aid. With dragon fury and fire, we alone have the ability to help them with such great deeds as to shake the foundations of Heaven, we ask you to bless us with strength and might…”
As Dar Kell prayed, everyone felt their skin tingle and heard whispers of approval and promises of power. Malcor saw himself standing triumphant and glorious against hordes of goblins, kobolds, and ogres and then faithfully defeating the lich. As Dar Kell’s prayer ended, a roar of wind encircled them with the beating thunder of dragon wings. All present felt the favored regard of dragons and then the prayer ended.
Dar Kell walked up to each and pressed his hand to the dragon symbol on the breastplate of each warrior, priest, mage, and others. For those not faithful to the Dragon Queen, he wished them well and that their god would watch over them. When he came to Malcor, he met the boy’s gaze and said simply, “You did well. Be honorable and strong. We will talk on the other side.” Those words, so unexpected, caught Malcor off guard and he felt his heart catch in his chest. He nodded trying not to smile or worse look confused.
Malcor's Story Page 19