Chapter 2
Strength of Faith
Garius Forge was sweating profusely.
His woollen garments that were situated beneath his golden armor were soaked, as was his face and head beneath the heavy, steel helm. Perspiration covered his chest inside his hauberk, and everywhere else for that matter. It was the end of Summer’s Fade and it was still hot, even here up north, and he and his group were covered from head to toe with the golden plated armor customarily worn by the servants of The Shimmering One. They each wore a white tabard as well, bearing the symbol of the sun-god stamped proudly upon their chests. It was yet another reflection of their unyielding commitment as a devotee to the sun-god.
His assignment was to travel east with a group of paladins on a pilgrimage. Garius and the four knights under his command—Matthias, Marcus, Bralon and Micah—rode on the backs of mighty warhorses, complete with lean muscles and mighty strides. Their movement was unusually slow this day, however, as they were charged with escorting their guest, the halfling healer named Divah, to the village of Dhegg, and then home to Merithia in the northeast section of the Shindar region. This was all part of their instructions given them by the High Priest, Tiyarnon.
Halflings, as is common knowledge throughout Wothlondia, have an affinity for healing as the druids do, by tapping into the spiritualistic powers originating from the Feyfields. Rumor has it that they are more in tune with that particular plane of magic than even the elves, to whom they are closely related. Simply put, halflings are smaller versions of the elves and closely resemble them in every manner possible, including their appearance.
The sun reached its pinnacle and the halfling woman recognized that Sun’s Peak was upon them. This time of day caused the men to collectively pause for a moment of reflection in reverence to the god of the sun. The female halfling sat quietly and observed the ritual with compliance and great interest.
Divah was an expert healer who needed no aid from the gods of the realms—she was a natural healer able to mimic the healing prayers of even the High Priest with the simplest of efforts. The healing gift was innate to many halflings, though she was more skilled than most. She was believed to have a direct connection to the Regenerative Plane, with which most healers of the realm would be envious.
Divah was quite diminutive but was especially delicate, even for a halfling, a fact offered by many of the priests she’d met in Oakhaven. She delicately brushed the white hair away from her vibrant green eyes and continued to observe the priests.
She sat atop a pony that trekked rather more slowly than the men would have liked, she knew, but they each kept their tongues silent at the behest of the warpriest, Garius, who led them along. After all, they were to escort her safely, and were not given any constraints on time.
Divah had been sent by Rimbo Hollytoe, the village elder of Merithia, to observe the temple of The Shimmering One in Oakhaven and to meet with the eldest priest, Tiyarnon, to gain an understanding of how they went about tapping into the regenerative plane. She had left two others behind in Oakhaven to further investigate the procedures and to document it for further analysis. Likewise, Tiyarnon had instructed this small group of attendants to glean some wisdom from the Merithian halfling as best they could.
“I cannot wait to visit Dhegg and to examine the tinctures and potions and other wares offered by Larwinckle and the gnome merchants there! They are rumored to have rare tomes and recipes concerning healing elixirs and things of that nature for sale, too,” the halfling woman said excitedly to Garius, who rode beside her, regarding the halfling’s unbridled enthusiasm with a smile of his own.
“I am aware of these rumors as well, my lady,” Garius responded kindly. He locked eyes with hers and sensed a timid and playful shyness about the halfling that seemed too innocent for words. Her thirst for knowledge and frank naivety were as refreshing as they were innocent.
His hand instinctively went to his helm, which dangled from a clip on his saddle as the heat was a bit much to wear it this day. His short cropping of black hair was completely soaked with sweat, which sent a steady stream of moisture down his face and pooled above his thick eyebrows, though he did not complain.
Divah’s white hair, however, appeared to be completely dry, which puzzled the warpriest a great deal.
“How is it that you do not perspire?” he asked, unable to quell his curiosity and gently nudging the firm head of his warhammer back into its proper place upon his back as it had slid uncomfortably to one side.
“I do not sweat,” she answered him bluntly. “I do not know why. I barely feel the heat upon me even now,” she added, looking skyward into the brilliant sun. Garius’s face screwed up in confusion at that remark.
How is that possible? he reflected without a word. Halflings are certainly…different.
“It is something to which I am immune, I suppose,” she continued with a shrug, perhaps sensing his reaction. “I’ve never really given it much thought.”
“Very well, my lady,” he nodded politely, wiping a puddle of perspiration from his brow. “I welcome the heat. It is like the pain of a wound or the bite of the chill wind. They proclaim to your senses that you yet live.”
She politely returned the smile that was set upon his face and then turned away from him, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She either did not understand the reference or could not relate to it, he gathered as he returned his own attention to the landscape.
They had circumvented the Blackstone Mountains, traveling north around them, and had also crossed the upper portion of the Prismatic River at the ford. They were currently just north of the Oakcrest Mountains where travel would begin to slow even further. They stopped there to eat and rest for a short while.
And the days began to pass just the same.
The landscape began to slowly change beneath their horse’s hooves, for they had been traveling for quite some time and had entered the region of Stonehill. The ground was becoming rugged and coarse, lending a resounding conviction to the region’s name.
A chill was becoming more palpable in the air around them and Garius was thankful for that. They were midway through The Calming and the month of Nature’s Fall was only a week or so away.
Dhegg could be found near the center of the Lochbeech River, further to the west, and only about a day away now. They had been riding for almost two months, due to the slow pace set by their guest, but they still had plenty of supplies.
“It has been fifty three-years since the reign of Ashenclaw,” Divah mentioned absently. He stared at her for a long while absently.
She possessed a beautiful smile that she displayed often enough and her face was undeniably a woman’s, boasting a set of high cheekbones with full lips and a distinguished wisdom behind her eyes. It all seemed strange on the body of a woman who looked as if she had not yet reached her fourteenth name-day.
“The calendar year is 54 P.A., my lady,” Garius corrected her assumption, focusing on her question again.
“Apologies, my lord,” she answered him respectfully. “We halflings do not place as much importance on the measurement of time as we should.”
Garius merely nodded his consent and continued carefully through the hilly patches that presented beneath their horses’ hooves. Suddenly, the sound of steel being drawn was heard as the Paladins brought their weapons to bear.
“What is it?” asked Garius.
“Micah’s keen elven eyes have detected enemies approaching from the south, my lord,” answered Bralon accordingly. Micah was half-elven and Garius knew that his eyesight was better even than that of some full-blooded elves.
“Enemies, you say? How can you be sure?” Garius questioned them.
“They are not human,” Micah called back to the warpriest with utter certainty in his tone. “They move as if they are not living, sir.” Then he clarified further. ”They are… undead.”
Divah gasped at tha
t and reined up her horse. “The undead are profane atrocities!” she stated boldly, wincing in what looked to be physical pain.
“Aye,” Garius nodded grimly in agreement. “We shall smite them from the face of Wothlondia and send them back to Pandemonium with haste.” He donned his polished steel helm. “The Shimmering One shall see to this.”
“Aye” agreed Bralon the Bold, as he was oft called, in a calm, solemn tone that emerged from behind a thick blonde beard. That and the occasional glint of an eye were the only features seen through his heavy steel helm. He was a bear of a man with muscles threatening to escape from beneath his sturdy, golden plate armor, and his deeds were legendary.
The undead mass shuffled closer, then one by one began to rush toward the group. These undead were large and it looked as though they were unsure of their own footing. Upon closer inspection, however, they moved quite swiftly in comparison to their bulbous nature.
“What in Pandemonium…?” asked Micah as he waited for the command, looking back to the warpriest. There were at least three score of the creatures hurrying toward them. And once the creatures caught the scent of fresh meat nearby, they began to trample each other in a mad rush toward the holy warriors.
Garius gathered the knights around him and delivered a prayer of aid that would fill them with divine strength. Within seconds, Garius and the group of Paladins shone brightly for a split instant until the burst faded, remaining faintly aglow around their armored shells. That radiance replenished them with the power and endurance of the gods. However, as they knew, for they had received this blessing before on many occasions and on many battlefields, it would last only a short time.
The female halfling was instructed to move further north into a cropping of trees atop a small hill, and she willingly did so and with haste. She was not cowardly, Garius appreciated, but seemed to have an overwhelming fear of the undead. He would have to pursue that reasoning at another time.
The five servants of The Shimmering One formed up next to one another, Bralon at their head, and took the brunt of the undead charge. The creatures slammed into their blades and shields amidst a cacophony of screeches and guttural sounds unintended for men’s ears. Filled with the blessing of divine strength, the Paladins slashed and sliced into the sickening and diseased flesh, sending body parts flying everywhere.
Garius could detect the stench of disease on the abominations as a miasma of contagion surrounded the very air around each and every one of them. The warpriest waded through the dead bodies on the floor, while the invigorated knights around him cut a swathe through the horde of zombies. Garius removed his holy warhammer and gripped his shield tightly, fastening it to his left arm as they fought together.
For several moments, the divinely charged warriors cut down their enemies with ease, never slowing or tiring, their attacks charged with the force of a dozen men. Blow after blow took the zombies down, one by one, until the speed of their attacks eventually slowed.
Divah watched from afar in horror and felt bile within her throat, threatening to spew forth.
How are they doing this? she wondered, seeing the vast number of the undead creatures and knowing that there were only five knights. There were scores of the vulgar things.
She held fast and watched with mouth agape as the scene unfolded.
Garius strode into the midst of the chaos and voiced a prayer, holding his sun-symbol in his grasp as reassurance. The Paladins heard his words and pressed their attack, not allowing a single one of the zombies to disturb the priest. The words grew in volume and reached their crescendo as the warpriest held both hands on high.
“You shall not win this day!” Garius screamed, and his eyes and body filled with a white light. That radiant, brilliant energy burst forth from him all at once, bathing the area in light so bright that none could see within it.
“Your perdition is fulfilled!” Garius shouted as the luminosity burst forth from his body exploding in all directions.
The undead creatures fell in droves under the holy outbreak, simply melting or reduced to ash right before the eyes of the Paladins. Micah swung roughly at a zombie but nearly sent himself sprawling to the ground as the creature turned to nothingness before him. All told, several dozen of them fell under the ubiquitous light. But when the knights’ vision cleared, there were still more of the undead coming.
Garius saw that Marcus had fallen, succumbing to an unseen foe, perhaps due to the visible aura of contagion that seemed to fester upon the skin of these zombies. He had been bitten and clawed by more than one of them as they found flesh beneath his armor. He was feverish and convulsing. Yet still more of the undead approached. There was no respite as the knights moved forth to continue their service to The Shimmering One, as was their vow.
Garius held his hammer on high, the huge head pointed skyward.
“For The Shimmering One!” he bellowed, rallying his holy warriors and spurring them on once more with a renewed vigor. He turned to regard the fallen Paladin and was contemplating calling a burst of energy upon him when he felt a rap on his head from an unobserved zombie that had made its way to him. The sound echoed within his helmet and his ears rung at the sheer savagery of the blow. He shoved the drooling thing away with his shield. That created a bit of space, allowing him to swing and bury his warhammer deep within his assailant’s skull, which cracked and caved under the force of his blow. With that, the zombie fell limply to the rough soil with arms outstretched.
Garius remarked that Bralon was fighting like a man possessed of The Champion himself, with strength and exuberance set forth with each and every swing of his blade. He cut down zombie after zombie as it if were a menial task and he carried on as the focal point of their attacks.
Then the warpriest turned again, this time seeing Matthias straining to keep one of the creatures at bay. It was on his sword but the zombie had gotten inside the knight’s shield. It was pushing forward along the length of his sword, already impaled upon it, but indifferent about its state of being. It was propelled by its hunger, not reason or emotion. Its goal was to feed, pure and simple. That is one advantage they have over us, Garius thought as he moved quickly to Matthias’ aid. He came in on Matthias’ right flank and pointed his warhammer at the zombie.
“But we have faith,” he whispered to himself in a reassuring tone, calling the celestial aid of The Shimmering One once more and driving a beam of divine holy energy right through the creature’s skull. It slumped upon Mathias’ sword. He glanced at Garius, nodding in thanks, before receiving the next zombie which he drove back with a slam of his shield followed quickly by a wide swing of his blade.
Garius moved to assist the fallen Marcus, as Bralon hacked down the last of the zombie threat.
As he approached, he witnessed Divah kneeling beside him introducing a burst of regenerative energy into the man while he prayed, bravely and loudly to the sun god through trembling lips. The timorous halfling that had once run from the undead creatures was gone, leaving behind someone more courageous, it appeared.
“I thought you feared for your life?” Garius questioned.
“I was more afraid for this man than for my own safety,” Divah answered with an implacable contempt behind her green eyes. They were hard in their reflection of the warpriest, whether in response to his words or in an attempt to quell her own fears, Garius could not tell. Perhaps it was simply her detestation of the undead zombies that propelled her.
Marcus coughed and shivered as the divine light coursed through him. Garius knelt in prayer, away from the halfling, and prayed for help in fighting the disease that now ran rampant throughout his fellow companion.
Moments later, Garius stood and removed his helm.
“These things are called Blood Rot Zombies—Blood Rotters to some,” Garius explained to Divah. “They have not plagued our world since a time before the reign of Ashenclaw. Something wicked has be
en sent to Wothlondia.” As he spoke, the warpriest knelt and examined Marcus. “Something wicked, indeed. This was no random act. Something summoned these things and set them free upon our lands.”
“Some-thing or some-one?”
“That is something I intend to find out. You have done all you can and I appreciate that,” he thanked Divah kindly. “I must rid him of the contagion now or he will die.”
The Paladins surrounded the warpriest and offered support in the form of prayers while Divah willingly moved aside to allow them the space.
This was something she had not anticipated, and though she had dealt with disease and poisons before, she conceded the warpriest his prerogative without a word. She watched in awe and wonder as the warpriest chanted spells and invoked the regenerative energy into the fallen body of Marcus over and again for the next hour and more, attempting to quell the deadly infestation that consumed him.
It was for naught.
“We need to burn his remains so that he does not return from the dead,” Garius stated with pain in his voice. “He deserves a hero’s burial. Yet, here I am faced with burning him instead of sending him off rightly in a glorious ritual.”
Silence and dejection filled the empty air. The warriors formed a semi-circle around the body of the fallen Paladin which they had stacked up high on neatly piled branches in a clearing. Garius started mouthing a prayer in remembrance of the valor of the man named Marcus while Bralon struck the tinder twice. The kindling caught quickly.
They all stood silently in reverence and watched as the Paladin was consumed by the flames.
“It is never easy to lay a loved one to rest,” Divah announced softly to the warpriest.
“He deserved a champion’s funeral and instead we have to take the practical precaution.” There was a brief pause and she regarded him sympathetically. “It comes with the territory, but we do not have to like it,” he replied. “I thank you for your condolences in the matter.” He saw the look of concern on her face, though his stare returned to her nothing but hardened features and eyes as cold as ice.
After an hour passed, the ceremony was concluded and a proud servant of The Shimmering One lay dead.
“You did your best,” Bralon assured the warpriest, slapping him on the back.
“Aye” he nodded. “We all did. But where in Pandemonium did these foul things come from?”
“I am not sure,” responded Bralon from beneath his helm. “But we have to get moving. Our supplies dwindle with each day and we need a break from the road.”
Garius nodded his consent and they all mounted up and sped off toward Dhegg, the halfling propelling her own pony to its limits.
At one point, Garius looked back to see the pyre burning, smoke billowing into the night sky, even though they were several miles away by now.
Within the hour, Garius witnessed a light coming from a burrow hidden deep within the soil and realized that they had wandered right into Dhegg and had not even realized it.
The town was mostly subterranean, structured slightly below the uneven grounds of the Stonehill region, with one or two of the dwellings extending on into a huge grove of trees that grew harmoniously adjacent to one another. Garius was aware that the gnome’s defenses were their stealthily concealed burrows, granting them the element of surprise against would-be invaders.
It was then that he abruptly perceived the shadowy figures, short of stature and hiding behind the crests of the surrounding hills. Some were even in the trees above. Gnomes stood or crouched with crossbows cocked and ready to fire upon them. However, it seemed that they were awaiting a command to discharge their weapons, for they restrained their volleys.
Garius had been so preoccupied with his own guilt at having let Marcus die that he hadn’t noticed any of it. He thanked The Shimmering One that his folly hadn’t cost them even more lives.
“Hold!” called a voice from overhead. It was wheezy, yet forceful.
“It be very late, strangers,” said a smallish man, who slowly came into view, descending from high above in the shadows.
Before them stood what could only be a gnome, with thick white hair covering his head and a neatly trimmed beard surrounding his chin and lips. Bright blue eyes peeked out from under bushy white eyebrows and he had a bit of a belly on him.
“I am Larwinckle and I assume ye’ mean us no harm. At least that’s what I be advised.”
“Aye,” Garius confirmed. “Apologies, my lord, but we have been traveling for months with no rest and sought you with purpose. Please consider allowing us to remain in your village.”
“Of course ye can stay,” Larwinckle answered, signaling for all of the gnomes to put down their weapons. They all gathered around and looked the humans and the halfling up and down curiously and then scattered back to their homes.
“Follow me and I’ll be showin’ ye where ye can bed for the eve,” stated the white bearded gnome, moving as he spoke.
He showed them to a smallish burrow, which was large according to gnome standards, and which would sleep all five of them, albeit uncomfortably.
“Many thanks, Larwinckle,” said Garius kindly, nodding to the gnome. “I am Garius Forge, warpriest to The Shimmering One.”
“Pleased to meet ye, Garius Forge,” replied Larwinckle as he backed out of the burrow. “We’ll speak on the morrow when we break our fast.”
Garius nodded and closed the door, unaware that a pair of spiteful eyes considered him curiously.
Garius removed his armor methodically over the next hour before lying down. He barely slept at all as the face of Marcus haunted his slumber.
Garius focused on the door when he heard the footsteps approach, light though they were. He was awake, but hardly refreshed. He had already refitted his armor meticulously, prayed and meditated in the cramped confines of the room and had done so quietly enough not to wake the others.
The expected knock sounded on the door, echoing in the room as his companions began to stir. Garius opened the door and beheld a hunched gnome. He looked impatiently into the room, and then stared up at Garius and began mumbling something to him. The warpriest bent to one knee before the bald gnome and placed a hand to his ear.
“I said, Larwinckle be ready for ye,” the unnamed gnome repeated more clearly and then waddled away along a scarcely perceptible path that was worn into the grassy meadow. It was barely visible now and had gone undetected all of last evening, especially after the sun had fallen into the clouds.
“I will accompany this one. You will seek me out once you are dressed and ready,” Garius called back to the others, but Divah was already up and out of her bedroll wearing a long gown made of a thin, yet durable fabric that Garius assumed was meant to be slept in. The halfling was so excited to get moving that it seemed she did not care about the state of her undress.
“I am coming with you,” she told Garius eagerly, her green eyes filled with wonder and joy at her obvious expectations of finally exploring the gnome village. With that, she snatched up her shoes and began moving hastily out of the burrow. The Paladins began to move about in the shadows of the room, donning their clothing and then their armor. Garius shook his head and a smile cracked his face as he watched the halfling, hopping forward on one foot and then the other, trying to put on her shoes while hurrying after him.
She is quite impulsive, he thought, allowing the smile to remain until it left of its own accord a few moments later.
The gnome led Garius and the female halfling to a smallish door that appeared to be anchored to the ground. It was partially hidden by brush and foliage, Garius observed, as the gnome knocked loudly on its hard, wooden surface. Garius also noted that there was no knob to be seen or any other obvious way to pull the door open from the outside.
With that thought in mind, he saw the door open outward slowly a
s a gnome pushed it ajar and then waved them all in. Garius watched as the gnome and halfling strode easily through the opening, then he stooped, having to bend low in order to navigate the space. It was well lit inside by a combination of lanterns and a brilliant, magical light coming in from above them that appeared to hover and move about on its own. The warpriest wondered if the wisp of light was something sentient.
Larwinckle sat at a large table by himself and waved Garius and Divah over to join him.
“Havin’ some duck eggs, curds and bread for the breaking of our fast,” he informed them as another gnome placed a plate of food and a basket of bread in front of them. Another, a female gnome this time, came over and handed them both a mug of water and another of milk. Garius nodded and accepted them before turning his attention back to Larwinckle. He observed quietly as the gnome ate his food with a seemingly ravenous hunger until moments passed and he was gulping down the last of his mug’s contents.
“I cannot wait to see your market!” Divah said excitedly between bites of her food.
“Ye are welcome to see all of our wares,” the gnome responded. “Berengel and Zulmatten over there will certainly be happy to show you their latest inventions.” He pointed at a table where two gnomes sat alone. One had floppy brown hair all about his face and the other was bald on top, with silver follicles lining the back and sides of his head.
“No one really talks to ‘em except one another,” he laughed.
“Is your whole village present?” Garius asked him, scanning the room and noting that there were literally hundreds of gnomes milling about. This structure was one of the few that extended above ground, making practical use of the tight grouping of trees outside.
“Not even close,” Larwinckle giggled. “This is Hedgewin’s Tavern,” he continued, indicating a gnome behind the bar who hurried about, wiping mugs and giving instructions to the others under his employ. The bar itself was a massive construction of fine wood that wrapped around behind them and disappeared out of sight. “This place is the biggest building in the whole town and goes up seven more floors.”
Garius looked surprised as he peered up to the wooden ceiling but then saw a sturdy set of steps that obviously connected to the floors above and another set heading down.
“Where do those lead?” Garius asked about the stairs leading to a lower level.
“Aren’t we full o’ questions this morn?” Larwinckle answered with a smile. “Eat yer food ‘afore it gets cold and we’ll talk after.”
Garius nodded and did as he was told, with a look of curiosity upon his face. He had never really intermingled with the gnomes before and was finding their customs quite different. He looked to his right to see that Divah had already finished eating and had joined the two inventors at the other table. A moment later, the Paladins entered the room ducking and squatting under the roof. They found seating and settled themselves uncomfortably on a bench at another table as the gnomes brought them their food. Garius watched as Matthias, Bralon and Micah each gave thanks to The Shimmering One and clanked mugs in respect for their fallen brother before eating their meals.
He slowly finished his own repast in silence while Larwinckle told a story of how he and his kin came to master the repeating crossbow. Garius listened intently.
Randermotten did not leave his burrow this day for the morning meal, nor did he want to share anything at all with the gnomes that would surely gather throughout the day at Hedgewin’s Tavern. He was, however, very interested in the strangers that came calling last eve... he and the newly summoned demon, Zan’kuros, that is. Zan’kuros was an avatar demon from Pandemonium and servant to the demon lord, Amon. He had responded to the pleas of the warlock the day before last.
Randermotten was an ambitious gnome and habitually excluded himself from most activities enjoyed by his brethren. He had been a hermit for several decades since his wife of many years passed away from a sudden illness. He kept to the shadows and eyed his fellow gnomes with contempt. The inhabitants of Dhegg generally respected each other’s privacy and so left him alone for the most part. However, they did consider him quite strange. He walked with a limp, a defect he’d had since birth, his hygienic habits were not usually well kept and he could often be found muttering to himself. Many of the villagers would whisper about the peculiarities of the hobbling gnome and gossip amongst themselves about his unusual mannerisms. This angered the misguided gnome, and instead of pursuing help from any of the Gods of Order, he instead begged for aid in the night to the demon lords and pursued the black arts of the warlock.
From the abyss called Pandemonium emerged the fiend Zan’kuros, a demon that smelled of sulfur and brimstone. It did not have a corporeal form, but instead was a thing of mist and smoke, shimmering and fading in and out, and its eyes shone bright red in the darkness. It hovered in the shadows, whispering and planting seeds of treachery within the thoughts of the gnome, sometimes sending images into his mind's eye.
“Weeee muuuusst fiiind a host foooorrrr meeeee,” it hissed to him in a very broken tongue. It spoke to the gnome in the common trade-speak, or Wothlondian as it was called.
Randermotten had been dabbling with the dark arts in secret for a year now and was beginning to harness that magic, especially the necromantic spells associated with the Degenerative Plane.
“I’ve a host in mind,” stated Randermotten, sweeping a mop of hair from in front of his dark eyes which harbored a palpable hatred. “We’ve been set upon by a group of Paladins. You must possess one of them!”
“Yyyeeeeesssss,” it whispered, its red eyes glinting in the shadows. “Giiivvveeee meeeeeee a tasssssssste offf flleeeessssssshhhhh.”
“I’ll bring one close enough and ye should have the time ye require ta trap his soul,” Randermotten informed the creature, seeing its eyes flash a bright scarlet at that comment.
With that, Randermotten opened the door to his burrow and squinted into the sunlight, surveying the scene. He set off toward Hedgewin’s Tavern and then stopped as a fortuitous event occurred—one of the Paladins emerged from the tavern… alone!
“Help!” called Randermotten suddenly, waving to the Paladin to follow. He was able to yell it loudly enough that the knight heard him across the short distance, yet softly enough as to not disturb anyone else. Or so he thought.
“What be the problem, my lord?” asked a female gnome passing by, a neighbor to Randermotten, whose name eluded him. He ducked back into his burrow and she pursued him. She had long silver hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, so full of warmth and hope.
That look changed to shock, and possibly despair, he thought, as he thrust a dagger straight through her heart with a crazed look in his deep, dark eyes. As he dropped her to the floor, her warm blood still fresh on his hands, the Paladin entered.
His facial features distorted slowly beneath his helm, converting from puzzlement and wonder to sheer horror and disgust as he registered what had happened here. His gaze slowly adjusted to first regard the limp gnomish female on the floor lying in a puddle of blood, and then the dark-eyed gnome standing with a bloody dagger in his hand.
“What is the meaning of this?” Bralon blurted out in absolute revulsion at the sight of the dead gnomish girl. But as the holy warrior unsheathed his weapon, intending to enforce the will of The Shimmering One upon the obvious and base murderer set before him, he froze. He jerked back suddenly and began to convulse as his helm flew from atop his skull to reveal the blonde hair beneath. His wide eyes showed a clear struggle within and turned to regard Randermotten, whose face widened with a wicked smile.
Bralon’s brow began to bead with sweat as the demon Zan’kuros asserted his will from within the holiest of holy warriors. The Paladin felt the darkness closing in on him, wresting control of his soul.
Randermotten watched intently, growing nervous as the internal battle seemed to go on for what seemed an eternity. He continued observing, beginning to wonde
r who would emerge victorious.
Bralon fought with the will and power of a true warrior of the sun god, but in the end it did him no good against this foul demon from Pandemonium. Now he was no longer Bralon the bold. In his stead was a demonic creature, the likes of which Wothlondia hadn’t seen in decades.
The Paladin rose to his feet and stood up straight once more. Randermotten held his dagger out before him in a threatening manner, worried about what he would do if Bralon had actually won the battle for his soul.
“I… am… Bralon… no…. more,” the creature struggled to say, seemingly having trouble uttering the words. “Zan’kuros… is… now.”
“Not used to the human’s voice, eh?” Randermotten chuckled with a relieved and devious grin. “We be needin’ to clean this up and ye be needin’ to be gettin’ back to your… friends,” he added with a sickening giggle. “Yer gonna’ have to act like all is normal until ye leave, and then,” he paused, “…slaughter ‘em!” Randermotten said this with confidence, knowing that the demon within Bralon was mighty indeed. “Then ye return ta me and we’ll decide what’s what.”
With that, Randermotten began to clean the gnomish woman’s lifeblood from the hard floor of the burrow while the demon devoured the body. Randermotten winced a few times during the procedure. He was still not used to the demon and what it was capable of doing. Once that task was finished, Zan’kuros, now in the body of the human paladin, began working his vocal chords aloud, familiarizing itself with the voice of its current host.
“Thank you again for providing us with food and shelter,” Garius declared with a gesture toward his plate. The meal had not been very appetizing, but he had eaten it nonetheless out of respect for the gnomes’ kindness and hospitality. “I am finished eating now.”
“So ye are,” observed Larwinckle, standing and heading toward the door to the lower level that Garius had questioned him about earlier. “This heads into the tunnels below the village,” he said matter-of-factly. “We gnomes don’t do much of our traveling above ground, ye see.”
Garius nodded in understanding. It made sense now to him. The gnomes were generally under-dwellers, subterrane-born with a penchant for doing things in the dark rather than the light. That type of existence would not sit well with the warpriest. He needed the constant reminder of his god’s presence.
He watched as Bralon came back into the tavern and wondered how long he had been gone. Garius realized he must have been listening to the gnomes’ story for over an hour, and so intently that he had not been paying attention to the comings and goings around him. He watched as Bralon walked unsteadily toward the others, took a seat next to them and began speaking to them in hushed tones.
Is something wrong with Bralon? Garius wondered. But, before he could give it another thought, he felt the hand of the gnome upon his shoulder.
“Do ye want to take a look see?” Larwinckle asked, wrenching the warpriest from his introspection. Garius nodded politely and examined the three Paladins as they stood and exited the tavern. Probably going out to pray beneath the sun, Garius thought, since it must be nearing Sun’s Peak again.
The warpriest silently followed the gnome to the lowest floor level of the tavern, which in Garius’ estimation had to be twenty to thirty feet below ground at this point. Larwinckle descended the stairs and opened the door. A well-lit and expansive tunnel opened up before him.
There were several gnomes scurrying about down here and Garius realized it to be a grandiose space. Their entire village for the most part was under the ground in these wide, voluminous tunnels. Garius had to duck slightly on occasion to avoid banging his head along the ceilings of the tunnels, but generally they were at least a full head above his height. As they walked along, he discovered that there were buildings and other structures built entirely under and directly into the ground, with stone that made up the walls. His awe and respect for the gnomish people grew as he admired their craftsmanship and ingenuity. There was even a small, clear brook that ran alongside the major walkway where fish could be glimpsed, swimming under the crystalline surface.
Larwinckle showed Garius around. Divah appeared from time to time, moving from shop to shop, attempting to take it all in. She was accompanied by several gnomish escorts who obviously knew the marketplace well enough.
Then Garius noted a mannish figure in brown robes with a hood about his head, walking alone. He seemed quite out of place and was roughly human in size, though Garius could not see his face… or skin for that matter.
“Who is that?” Garius asked Larwinckle as the figure slowed to stare at him, steadily walking past. He was a human—a man, older than his gait would suggest, Garius noted, witnessing the leathery skin of someone who must be well past sixty years of age. The warpriest also saw that he held something tight to his chest but could not make out what it was.
“That be a visitor from Safehold,” Larwinckle admitted in a whispered tone. “He is from the Order of the Faceless Knights.”
Garius was shocked at that revelation. “The Inquisition is in Dhegg?” he asked incredulously. Larwinckle nodded in response. “They don’t much like bein’ bothered or bein’ the topic of our conversin’,” he stated confidently. “That’s fer sure!”
The man had stopped and was staring at Garius again for some reason, ignoring the significant distance between them, and making the warpriest feel uncomfortable. The distant figure held Garius’ gaze for a while, ostensibly sizing him up until eventually the hooded figure returned his attention back to his surroundings and then quickly disappeared around a corner. Garius turned back to Larwinckle and shook his head, though the gnome did not notice the exchange and ignored the gesture.
“I’ll be showin’ ye around the whole village for a tour if ye’d like now?” Larwinckle offered. “Maybe show ye some of our fine crafts, trinkets and even some of our finer foods,” Larwinckle added a bit more enthusiastically. Garius nodded and followed after the white-haired gnome, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Zan’kuros stood over Bralon’s former companions, who now lay dead inside Randermotten’s burrow, their bodies completely shredded and almost unrecognizable. Bits of flesh and gore stained the ground and walls. Randermotten had run screaming down the stairwell once they entered his home and lured the all-too-goodly knights to their ultimate demise in the sub-basement.
Zan’kuros first used Bralon’s strong arms and steel blade to slay the one called Micah. He accurately slashed between the armored plates, slicing through the man’s exposed neck before he realized the deception. The half-elven Paladin died clutching at his throat, his eyes wide in disbelief. Then Zan'kuros toyed slowly with the other, the human knight, Matthias, before showing him its true demonic form. Matthias fought fiercely and injured the demon a few times, causing blackened ichor to ooze from the demon’s wounds, before ultimately being torn to pieces by the demon’s natural weaponry. Zan'kuros was finally becoming comfortable with this fleshy host and was able to shift back and forth quite easily when necessary.
“Iff… you summon more of my… k-kin, then we will… take over the village f-for you,” Zan'kuros stammered, transforming back into the form of Bralon the Bold.
“I got plenty of lifeblood to perform a ritual,” Randermotten replied, gesturing to the shredded remains that covered his basement floor. “It will be time again soon,” he continued, climbing the stairs and standing outside in the mid afternoon sun. “Once the moon is full tonight, I’ll be more ‘n happy ta bring another here to aid in the quest. But,” he paused to regard the demon, “I want to be made lord and master of Dhegg once it is done!”
“Prepare the circle,” Zan'kuros nodded respectfully, staring at Randermotten through the face of Bralon the Bold. His eyes flashed red for a second before returning to their normal shade of brown. “I must rid us of the… warpriest, too. I understand that he is a s-significant th
reat… according to the thoughts of this… f-fleshling.”
“Aye,” Randermotten confirmed. “Take care of him and I’ll be havin’ another of yer kind here by the end of the eve. Just remember our deal, demon.” Randermotten spoke threateningly, for he held a symbol upon his person that had two significant properties. Firstly, it would protect him from the demon’s influence and secondly, it could banish the demon back to Pandemonium if he wished.
“I… remember,” Zan'kuros acknowledged, turning away from Randermotten and exiting the burrow, heading off to Hedgewin’s Tavern once more. Randermotten wasn’t exactly sure if his ears deceived him just then, but he was almost positive he heard very faint laughter in the distance as the demon disappeared behind the tavern door.
Larwinckle led Garius around the underground village that comprised most of Dhegg for the rest of the day. There were miles and miles of passageways below the ground and very little of the village emerged into the rough and rocky terrain above. The two of them stopped at an emporium selling many different goods and crafts made by hundreds of the gnomes. This was one of the largest places that Garius had seen so far in the village.
Divah emerged from the emporium and came over to the pair of them. She was followed by another, a female gnome, who waited patiently behind her.
“I see Glimma there is showin’ ye around the marketplace,” Larwinckle said to the halfling, nodding toward the female gnome. “She knows all of the finest places to secure goods in Dhegg!”
“She does!” Divah agreed, holding up a leather sack near to bursting that clattered with the sound of glass and metals clanging together. “I can barely carry this.”
Larwinckle walked over to a pair of gnomes who were wandering by, spoke with them quietly and watched as they went sauntering off. Then the three of them waited, since he held up a finger to indicate this, and within moments, the two gnomes returned with a three-wheeled cart. They left it, bowing to Larwinckle, who smiled wide, his blue eyes glinting with pride as he offered the cart to Divah.
“Ye can place yer effects on there and continue to explore the markets until yer heart’s contented,” he added with a low bow. With that offer, Divah was off and pushing the cart toward her escort, Glimma.
Larwinckle then turned his attention back to Garius. “Is there anythin’ you might fancy a look see?” he asked the warpriest. Garius thought about this and decided that there was nothing in particular.
“I should probably make my way back to the tavern and rejoin my companions,” Garius admitted, tugging at the strands of a short, braided beard that hung just below his chin.
“Very well,” Larwinckle nodded. They began to retrace their steps. Within moments, Garius saw the form of Bralon walking toward them.
I wonder what he is doing down here alone? Garius thought, as he did not see Matthias or Micah alongside the huge Paladin. As Bralon the Bold neared the two of them, Garius sensed something was wrong. He did not know where the feeling originated, but he simply understood that Bralon was not what or who he claimed. He said nothing to Larwinckle, merely continuing forward, but mouthing the words to a spell as he looked toward the ground.
Bralon was within ten paces when Garius shoved Larwinckle to the ground and extended his two arms outward together, pointing at Bralon as he finished the spell. At that moment, a burst of regenerative, holy energy shot forth from his outstretched hands, bathing Bralon’s armored form in divine magic. It was so brilliant that many nearby gnomes had to cover their eyes. Larwinckle stared up in disbelief at both the events and at Garius, who next removed his shield and hammer from his back, and armed himself, strapping the shield to his left arm and gripping the handle of the hammer tightly in his right hand.
When the light cleared, no longer did Bralon the Bold stand before Garius Forge, but instead there was a demonic form so hideous it caused Larwinckle to recoil in sheer terror. Garius tightened his lips and gritted his teeth.
“Go back to Pandemonium where you belong and release this man’s soul to me!” Garius commanded, as if he knew exactly what was happening, though in reality he did not. Something was giving him cause, aiding him in understanding the recent events. Garius was well versed in the ways of possession and the allure of demons, but this was different. It was as if The Shimmering One himself was inspiring the warpriest.
The apparition in front of Garius was approximately two full heads taller than the warpriest. Its body shimmered with a darkness not born of this world and its true form was significantly threatening. At first hunched, it now rose to its full height, spreading out its huge arms that ended in deadly talons. And it roared. A sound of something both alien and threatening echoed from the walls of the vast cavern. Gnomes began to run to and fro, either in sheer terror or in the hopes of finding a weapon of some sort. Garius could hear Larwinckle barking commands to the gnomes and saw that the demon looked his way once, but mostly stared into Garius’ dark eyes.
“Not… without… you,” the demon finally spat in response to Garius’ command. With that, Zan'kuros charged Garius with inhuman speed. The warpriest had not even seated his helmet before the thing was upon him. Its maw opened wider than should have been possible as it appeared to unhinge from the jaw, displaying a series of razor sharp teeth.
Zan'kuros rained down a sequence of blows upon the warpriest’s steel shield with such force that it caused him to stumble and fall on his back. His helm rolled to a stop behind him. The blows eventually slapped the shield out wide to Garius’ left and exposed his chest and face for a brief second. One strike slashed across his plated hauberk, taking some of the golden flecked steel along with it, while the next slashed across Garius’ face and forehead, ripping the flesh above his left eye. Blood streamed down Garius’ face, temporarily blinding him.
The demon had reared back for yet another strike before Garius had the time to react or reset his shield. But before the killing blow landed, Garius heard a resounding thunk sound, then another, and then several more followed. This made the demon stop. Garius cocked his head enough to see that a group of gnomes stood with their repeating crossbows, launching volley after volley of bolts into the demon’s hide.
It wrenched its massive bulk away from Garius and roared in defiance at the gnomes, black ooze cascading from the wounds upon its flesh. It chased after them, eventually catching two and tearing their limbs from their sockets. Then Zan’kuros tossed the bloody stumps that remained aside like so much garbage. Next the colossal demon launched itself with inhuman speed at where Larwinckle stood.
Garius meanwhile made it to his feet, wiped the blood from his face and retrieved his helmet. He thrust himself between the two foes and pointed the head of his warhammer at the demon. He uttered another prayer to The Shimmering One. The demon charged once more, leaping through the air. But instead of landing upon the warpriest, the demon was caught full in the chest by the warhammer’s head. The blow sent it reeling in the opposite direction and it heard the distinct sound of its corporeal armor cracking under the intense impact of that assault. The hammer was laden with divine power and a burst of holy energy had erupted from the weapon as it struck Zan’kuros.
Garius stood in defiance, the hammer in his hand, as the demon hit the hard ground, bouncing and sliding into a nearby wall. The age-old stone buckled somewhat under the enormous bulk of its carcass. It shook its horned head and screeched a piercing howl that caused all nearby to protect their ears. Pain resonated through Garius’ head as he could not impede the raucous, other-worldly sound from penetrating his hearing.
Minutes seemed to pass until the sound finally faded. Soon after, his mind was able to focus once more and he observed something happening in the air around where the demon now stood.
A rift was beginning to materialize.
Garius realized in a dreadful panic that the howl was some kind of extra-planar summoning and his heart skipped a beat at the thought of what might rush through that portal if i
t came into being.
Before he could do anything at all to address the summoning portal, the demon was on the move once more. Garius braced himself for the charge, shield held out defiantly before him, but nothing happened. Again, he heard the sound of bolts hitting the hard flesh of the demon. He looked up to see more quarrels sticking in the demon’s hide.
This time, though, the gnomes were working in unison. One squad fired their repeating crossbows and then another squad on the opposite side launched theirs. They were giving him time, Garius realized.
He rushed over to the rift and began a counterspell that would stop it from forming. He uttered an incantation to the sun god to reverse the summoning ritual. Slowly, the flickering aperture between the planes began to recede. Garius continued the prayer. Sweat beaded upon his face, mixing with the blood from the gash on his brow, as he mouthed the words with reverence and willfulness.
Just as the rift was about to seal, Garius witnessed an oversized claw extend and then recede into the shadows, attempting to come forth, but it did not make it through before the tear in the fabric of reality sealed for good. There was an instant, though, when the warpriest had locked eyes with the demonic presence within the planar chasm and had felt a palpable and imminent fear run up and down his spine. Perhaps it was a demon lord, he wondered for a brief instant. But before he could finish this thought, he heard a scream and observed the demon as it once more cornered a group of gnomes, pinning them against two walls. It was about to pounce upon them.
“Face me, demon!” Garius bellowed in a powerful voice, full of other-worldly endowment. The demon craned its head back to face Garius and even the gnomes jumped involuntarily at hearing him.
“I shall know your name and you shall return from whence you came!” Garius clamored as he advanced on the demon. His eyes and hands shone brighter with holy radiance with each step he took toward the demon and with each word he spoke.
Zan'kuros bore down on the approaching warpriest and leaped in the air to land upon him. As it took Garius to the ground, it roared in victory and cocked its right arm back to launch another assault upon the prone human.
From Garius’ body came a beacon of light that engulfed the demon, lifting it from atop Garius and then holding it fast in midair.
“What is your name, demon?!” Garius cried aloud, not just once, but many times over.
“Zan-‘kur-os!” called the demon unexpectedly and involuntarily.
Zan'kuros was shocked and frustrated that the human was powerful enough to command such spells. It hovered helplessly within the divine prison of light and turned hateful red eyes upon the warpriest.
“Return to the depths of Pandemonium, Zan’kuros, and never return to the face of Wothlondia again!” Garius spoke the words with conviction. ”Return, foul demon, to the depths of your fateful dwelling and bother us no more!” As Garius spoke the last of those words, the beacon shone brighter and brighter until it imploded upon itself.
When all was clear, nothing remained of the demon and in its stead was the body of Bralon the Bold. Garius slumped to his knees and each and every onlooker stood with mouths agape and eyes wide. All but two, that is.
The halfling female named Divah had watched the exchange from a distance and rushed over to the fallen man, infusing regenerative powers upon him in the hopes of rejuvenating him. She did not understand the ways of the worshippers of the sun god and hoped he had simply collapsed from exhaustion and not something else.
Another figure moved from deep within the shadows and came into view, lowering his hood and revealing a wrinkled face. He approached and whispered a command to Divah, who stopped what she was doing and moved to tend to Bralon instead.
Garius opened his eyes and saw a strange face before him and then recognized it as belonging to the man from the Order of the Faceless Knights.
He stared into the aged man’s dark eyes and his vision clouded and eventually faded into darkness.
When Garius came to, he began to sip from a mug that was thrust into his face by the female halfling, who smiled at his new and stable condition. He winced at the pain he felt upon his forehead above his left eye where Zan'kuros had taken several layers of flesh with a slash of his clawed hand.
Garius was in a bed somewhere in Dhegg, he guessed, and his armor had been stripped from him. He lay in the bed with only a loincloth and his chest was bare. He also gathered that he must have collapsed from exhaustion at the magical expenditure required to banish the demon back to Pandemonium.
A chill suddenly entered the otherwise warm room as a door opened behind him, allowing a cool breeze to enter the space. Several of the candles and torches flickered with the breeze, threatening to extinguish.
“We were fearing that you might have sacrificed yourself,” Divah confessed, with a befuddled look upon her beautiful face. “At least, that’s what the others suggested. How is your wound?”
“Bralon?” Garius asked the halfling, ignoring the question. She turned away from him. Garius heard her whimpers and understood what that meant. He did not pursue the line of questioning any more as his fears were realized. He saw Bralon’s belongings nearby, packed and ready for transport back to Oakhaven for his family, he surmised.
“Who is responsible…?” Garius asked with both a frustration and disdain evident in his tone.
“Do not concern yourself with these things,” called a stern and terse voice from his right side. Garius turned his head but a candle burned near him and blinded his vision to that side, hiding the owner of the voice at first. Then a hooded figure emerged from the light to stand before the warpriest.
“I am Ezekiel,” stated the elderly gentleman. “I am a representative from Safehold and an Inquisitor belonging to the Order of the Faceless Knights.” He paused, allowing the information to sink in. He was clearly in the twilight of his years and had a long, flowing beard that, initially tucked behind his robe, now hung loosely in front of his chest. The man bore symbols of all of the Gods of Order upon his raiment.
He spoke again. “We have discovered the place of the demon’s summoning, but the source has… eluded us,” he stated clearly and then added cryptically, “for now.”
Divah was still in the room. She got up to greet Larwinckle as he entered. The two of them whispered in the background for a moment. The inquisitor waited again for Garius to sit up in the bed and focus on the conversation.
“Your insight is vast, your piety unequalled and you will make an excellent addition,” stated the man calmly, awaiting the questions to follow.
Garius’ face twisted in confusion. “I am sorry. What?” he asked the Inquisitor.
“You will be joining our sect,” he added, and again Garius stared at him in disbelief.
“Surely you jest,” Garius replied, with wide eyes.
“I am afraid that I do not,” replied Ezekiel, folding his arms over his chest. “We will discuss this with Tiyarnon, but I am sure that he will consent to our… offer.”
“But what if I do not accept?” asked Garius, clearly confused and becoming aggravated with each passing word.
“You have no choice, son,” Ezekiel declared, as if this were fact and nothing else. “You are gifted, Garius. You have a clear and powerful grasp of detecting the presence of demons and are more than capable of exorcising them. This is not a gift to be taken lightly.”
“But I—“
“It is true,” called a female voice from behind them. “I could not discover what your true calling was, but I believe Ezekiel is right. You are a hunter of demons, Garius, And it is a gift.”
“The halfling speaks truly,” Ezekiel echoed. “You must get some rest and we will discuss this further when you wake. It is too much for you to understand in your weakened state.” With that, Ezekiel left, followed by Divah, leaving behind the leader of Dhegg alone with Garius.
“I saw what ye’re capable of doin’ there,” Larwinckle said, raising his
white, thick eyebrows. “Ye certainly have a gift.” Garius simply sat unspeaking, struggling to sort out what had transpired. “Not just any priest could do what ye did,” Larwinckle added, crossing his arms over his round belly.
Garius took in a deep breath and sighed. “I suppose you are right,” he admitted, averting his eyes from the gnome and looking to the ceiling above, as if searching there for answers. “I allowed my companions to die,” he continued, as if this were an argument to the contrary.
“Ye didn’t allow them to die, my lord,” Larwinckle responded, referring to him in a respectful manner.
“Lord?” echoed Garius. “I am no lord.”
“Ye are a warpriest of The Shimmering One and deservin’ of a title, sir, whether ye like it or not,” Larwinckle countered, “Just as yer knights were.” Silence filled the room for a few moments until Larwinckle spoke once more.
“Ye were simply livin’ yer life,” reiterated the gnome. “Ye can’t blame yerself for the actions of Randermotten and the demon, lest ye drive yerself batty. Yer fellow companions are with yer god now.”
“Aye,” Garius admitted. “They are, at that.”
“Ye should give this event some serious consideration afore ye cast it aside, is what I’m suggestin’.” Larwinckle moved to the door. Then he turned back to the man lying in the bed and stared deeply into his dark eyes. “We’d all be dead—me and me kin—if it weren’t fer ye…”
With that, the gnome left. Garius heard the door shut and heard the patter of the gnome’s footsteps as they faded into the distance, just as his acceptance of his offered position grew.
Wothlondia Rising: The Anthology Page 3