by Jon Bender
It had been the only time Keller had ever doubted his faith. But seeing that broken creature, he had crushed those doubts into nothingness, and then gave himself over to the true god for the betterment of all people.
“I don’t like my options,” she said, overlaid with a nervous laugh.
“I wouldn’t either were I in your position, but it is where you are.”
She nodded and moved back to the stone slab and sat down. “I would have one condition.”
Keller felt his brow tighten in response. He was offering her a chance, and she had the audacity to demand concessions. It didn’t take much to suppress his annoyance. She had after all, likely saved his life. It would do no harm to hear what she wanted.
“Now that you have had a hard look into the guild, what do you intend to do about it?” she asked.
He looked into her face while he considered and saw true concern. In truth, he had not given much thought to the thieves’ guild now that he would no longer be able to use it. “When other matters have been dealt with, I will have to dismantle the guild and bring them to the path.”
“Do you have to? I know you haven’t been here long, but you must see that Karadin is different from other cities. There is a balance, a sense of order to things. Even if you destroy the guild, others will simply replace us in time.”
What she said made sense. The few days he’d been in Karadin had shown him that it was indeed different from other cities he had visited. Even so, somehow it still managed to function while maintaining loyalty to Or’Keer. The guild itself wasn’t the source of the rebellion. Hailey had proved that to him.
“Why do you care so much about them?” he asked, truly curious to know what drove the woman.
She looked away and her eyes took on a distant look. “They are the only family I have ever known. Tiny raised me as his own, and I grew up with the people you intend to hunt down.”
What she was asking for conflicted with everything he had been taught by the brotherhood. Any people whose action were not intended for the greater good of serving Or’Keer must be brought to the path. The thieves’ guild were such people. As one of the chosen, it was his responsibility to see that done. Still, he could not shake the nagging feeling that he owed her.
“I can only promise you that I will not pursue them unless the dark god commands it. Even then, once his path has reached all of the fifteen kingdoms, I believe he will turn his gaze to your… family.”
She returned to meet his eyes, and the fight he had become accustomed to seeing there seemed to drain away, leaving in its place only resignation. “Then I will accept. I will become one of Or’Keer’s faithful.”
Keller felt relief at hearing her say so. There were too many of his actions and choices that weighed heavily on him, and he would not have to add her death to that list. That was, as long as Or’Keer accepted her.
“Prepare yourself,” he said. “I would suggest that you begin praying to the Dark God now to ask his acceptance of your service, and you must mean it. Whatever the reasons, your faith must be absolute. Half measures will not be enough.”
He knew true belief was rare among self-proclaimed converts, but Or’Keer had accepted them before. To Keller’s knowledge, he had never done so when creating one of the faithful, but he planned to make the case to the Dark God on her behalf. He would just need help in communicating that. “I will return for you tonight.”
Not waiting for a response, he turned and headed down the hall, leaving her to contemplate her future, and if she was wise, plead with the Dark God for his blessing. The guards fell in behind to escort him back to the entry room. Once there, he obtained their promise to ensure that Hailey was well fed. Otherwise, she was not to be disturbed by anyone but him. The group as a whole saluted in response, and he stepped back out into the late-morning sunlight. Outside he found Taft, Seldon, and Benkt standing in front of the squad of soldiers. The ten men formed into two lines of five and patiently awaited orders.
“What have you decided to do with her?” Benkt asked.
“We will discuss it once we have returned,” Keller said brusquely, not wanting to speak of business involving the temple in front of those present. There was also the matter of not wanting to inform the priest of his plan just yet. It was true that he could go to any other priest for what he needed and they would obey him, but Benkt was the one he knew. Keller was sure the man would argue the point until Keller was forced to threaten him into obedience, and that was not a disagreement he wanted to have at the moment. His impudence could be tiresome at times, but it was those same convictions that made Keller believe the priest could be trusted. “Taft, Seldon. Let’s get moving.”
Keller led the way out of the gates with Benkt at his side. The previous locations given up by Elitha had been across the river in the southern part of the city, but the latest was in the north. The house was in a district where wealthy merchants and minor lords lived, a surprising choice. After twenty years of purges and conversion, it was a common belief that the affluent citizens of Karadin were completely faithful, if only to keep their wealth from being seized by the temple. Only those who lived in poverty were expected to be discontent with their situation and lash out. In that sense, living as someone of means was the perfect cover to avoid scrutiny. The priests interrogating Elitha had told him the man they were searching for was a merchant who went by the name of Torbin. Keller had considered sending someone ahead to check if this suspected mage was still there, but had decided against it. The chance was small that he had not yet fled, but if he hadn’t, Keller didn’t want to risk alerting him ahead of time.
The street they walked down was lined with high-end shops, private drinking establishments, and clubs that required membership to enter. They also passed a vast stone building with the largest wooden sign Keller had ever seen. Its six-foot length hung from the third level and was carved with intricate, swirling designs. At its center, a silver hammer was laid over a gold saw marking the structure as belonging to the carpenters’ guild. Every one of the buildings appeared to be closed with no sign of life inside. It was nearing mid-day, and Keller could count on both hands the number of people out. The whole of the city had gone quiet, its citizens leaving their homes only when absolutely necessary. It had been so since yesterday as word of a new purge spread like fire in strong wind. None wanted to draw the eye of the temple at a time like this. He knew it to be a foolish fear. If they were truly devout in their worship of Or’Keer, they had nothing to worry about. It was only heretics and traitors who should be hiding.
Taft had moved out front to lead them, and turned down into another street. On both sides, large stone houses enclosed behind short walls and iron gates were packed closely together. Further down the street, Keller could make out another patrol led by men in black robes exiting one of the houses. The soldiers with the priests were dragging what appeared to be a family of three outside. They were forced into the street and onto their knees on the cobblestones as one of the priests waved what appeared to be a female-shaped figure in front of them, likely an icon for one of the old gods. Taft turned again taking them out of sight, but Keller could guess what would happen next. The priest would determine which of the parents was the most responsible for the worship of a false god and put them to death. The other would be sent to a conversion chamber while the child, depending on their age, would either join them or be taken to a temple where they would be brought to the path through instruction and guidance. There was a chance that the surviving parent could be given the same opportunity as the child, if the priest deemed they were not at fault for the heresy. This was something they were only likely to do if the guilty parent confessed. Keller hoped this would be the case.
Putting the sight of the kneeling family from his mind, he took in the houses surrounding him. In almost every one, he saw people peeking from behind drapes to watch their procession. Occasionally, there would be those who stood boldly to watch them pass, their presence enough to remind him that many peop
le knew they had nothing to fear if they truly believed in Or’Keer and his plan for mankind. He was still deep in thought considering what must be done when Taft raised a hand to stop. Following the older soldier’s eyes to the house, he found no difference from those surrounding it. Beyond the gate, a green and well-maintained garden offered a tranquil setting. Its small willowy trees cast shade over a small pond.
Leading the way, Keller opened the gate and moved to the stained door. An irrational sense of propriety almost caused him to knock and alert whoever was inside that they were there. Drawing power from the nearby shadows, he raised his hand to cast. A wall of darkness covered the stained wood entirely, its essence sinking into every crack and space. Concentrating his will, the shadows expand rapidly causing the door to explode inward in a hail of wood shards. Releasing the cast, light filled the entrance room. Besides the scattered remains of the door across ornate rugs, nothing appeared out of place. The finely carved tables and cushioned chairs were undisturbed. Several large bookcases held hundreds of well-maintained volumes. The archway to the side led to a formal dining room, and a set of curving stairs led up to the next level. Stepping over the threshold, Taft and the others quickly followed him inside.
“Benkt, Taft. Take half the men and search down here. Seldon and the rest follow me,” he said, moving deeper into the house.
Taking the first step, he looked up to the landing above. The house was large, and even with all the men he brought, it would take some time to search its entirety. Climbing higher, he listened for any movement, but the clatter of boots behind him masked any sound he might have heard. Reaching the landing, two halls branched off. Waving Seldon to go in one direction with three men, he took the remaining two down the other. The hall was covered in a long rug, and paintings of animals hung from the walls in heavy wooden frames. Stopping at the first door he came to, he opened it slowly to peer inside. The space was small with only a bed, washbasin on a corner table, and wardrobe, marking it as belonging to a servant. Moving on, he and the men with him checked every room until the hall turned right into a small alcove with a set of open double doors showing a large sitting room. Entering, he saw an open bottle of wine and two glasses with some of the red liquid resting at the bottom. There was another open door from which he heard a wheezing. Keller raised his hand in preparation to cast as the men with him drew their swords and readied themselves. Stepping quietly, he rushed the last few steps into the room.
A woman with dark hair lay in the large bed, the covers drawn up to her chest. Unfocused eyes under a pale brow did not seem to see him. She took a shuddering breath which came out in another wheeze. Lowering his hand, he moved closer to the woman who finally took notice.
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
“I am a servant of Or’Keer,” Keller whispered. Even in her obviously weakened state, he could see her body tense. “I am looking for a merchant called Torbin. Do you know where he is?”
The woman turned her head away, and Keller was about to press her further when shouting erupted from somewhere in the house. As he turned, the floor shook beneath his feet nearly causing him to fall. “Stay with her!” he commanded the two men.
Running back out of the sitting room, the floor shook again and the shouting turned to screams. Rushing down the hall, he saw the stairs were now completely blocked by a tangle of vines as thick as his waist. The plants had sprouted up from the stone floor, the rug that had covered the surface now bunched up near the ceiling. Looking at the sheer size of the growth, it had been created by a very powerful green mage. Down below, Taft stood at the bottom of the stairs with the men. Each had their sword out and were trying to hack a way through the vines but making no significant progress. Benkt was nearby, head bowed, hands clasped before him, and his lips were moving as if he was speaking to someone. At first Keller couldn’t hear what he was saying, and then his voice began to rise into a shout, the final words asking Or’Keer to send forth his servant. Shadows coalesced in front of the priest, the shape taking on a vaguely human form with abnormally long and muscled legs. Its arms were also too long for its body, the appendages ending in curving blades instead of hands.
He knew the true meaning behind the often-gruesome forms priests were taught to use. They pulled darkness from their own minds, the inherent flaw in all men that led them to do all manner of horrible things to one another. This darkness was harnessed and projected outward to show men what was truly in them, and to be terrified of it. The power granted to create the shadow beasts came from Or’Keer, an ability that Keller did not possess no matter how hard he tried, but the Dark God did not determine what form it took. That was wholly established by the will and talent of the priest. From what Keller could see of this beast, Benkt was skilled in the use of that power. There was no wasted energy in the creation of his beast. It was not overly large with unnecessary protruding spike or fur, as was often summoned by the shadow priests who could not fully control themselves. Benkt’s was the purest form of darkness, sleek and deadly.
The shadow moved towards the stairs as Taft and the soldiers made room for it, and Keller prepared to help by casting the void. Shouting began again from down the other hall and he left Benkt to clear a path. The hall broke into several others, at the end of one he saw two of the soldiers held against a wall, smaller vines, similar to those on the stairs, burrowing into their flesh. At first, he had wondered how the mage had been able to grow them on the second level, and then he noticed that beneath the broken planks was a layer of dirt. The mage had prepared the house well in case he ever needed to defend himself. One of the soldiers was already dead with a vine sprouting from his neck, the other had several piercing his limbs and stomach. With every slight movement of the vines, which continued to grow slowly, he let out a soft moan. From his wounds, Keller knew he would not last much longer and moved on.
There came more shouting from the right, followed by a slight tremor. Turning the corner, Keller found the third soldier of their group laying crumpled on the floor near a thick reed-like plant sporting foot long thorns, several barbs embedded in a painting and the wall behind it. Beyond the dead man stood a well-dressed figure with greying hair and wearing a green silk shirt. Torbin’s hand was raised toward Seldon who was framed by a large window at his back. The soldier held his sword out before him, but was making no move to advance. It looked like they were in the middle of a heated conversation, but when Seldon looked at Keller, Torbin must have seen it. More vines sprouted at Seldon’s feet holding him in place as Torbin spun around, his eyes locking on Keller’s. Keller did not see fear or anger as he was accustomed to when confronting enemies of Or’Keer. There was only determination in the mage’s eyes.
Keller saw the thorned plant that had killed the third soldier twist slightly. At the last instant, he dodged to the side while raising a small shadow wall. He felt several vibrations through his magic as the sharp barbs struck. With his other hand, he cast the tentacle to wrap around the plant and tear it free from the roots. With the immediate threat removed, he released the wall but could not risk using the void. The indiscriminate beam would cut straight through his opponent and into Seldon. Instead, he formed the clawed gauntlet around his hand and launched it toward Torbin, the open fingers aiming for the mage’s chest. A thick shrub erupted from the floor to entangle his cast, but Keller had not expected the attack to succeed and was moving to the side of the hall already preparing another. No longer in line with Seldon, he unleashed the void, the absolute darkness streaking forward. Torbin raised his hand again and the shrub grew thicker, the individual branches becoming darker as the whole of the plant grew denser. Keller was taken completely by surprise as the void made contact but did not penetrate to strike the green mage. The shrubs’ hardened form resisted the beam long enough for new growth to replace what was destroyed. Keller drew on more of the surrounding shadows to fuel his cast, but the bright light from the window down the hall and that provided by the lamps hanging from the walls, res
tricted what power there was to be had.
The green mage on the other hand did not seem to be anywhere near his limit when another plant burst forth near Keller. This one seemed frail, supported by a green stalk with several pods. He continued to hold the void, hoping that he would soon break through the protective shrub but time ran out as the pods ripped open to reveal purple petals and a bud at their core. The buds puffed a golden dust in the air and he knew he was in trouble. Even if he could create the shadow wall, it would do nothing to protect him from the air. There was also nowhere to run to escape whatever magic had been unleashed. Holding his breath, he poured all the power he could summon into the void. Slowly, his magic cut deeper through the plant but his lungs began to burn with the need for air. He didn’t know what poison the flowers had released, and didn’t want to find out the hard way. The void was closer now, mere inches away from breaking through. He continued to stare at the thick brush protecting the man, but it became wavy and unfocused as his vision blurred. A leg collapsed under him, and then he was falling forward.
Just as unconsciousness began to take him, Keller felt the involuntary gasp that restored his body, that same breath filling his lungs with toxic pollen. A different type of fire ignited to replace the one in his chest. Each breath brought on a coughing fit as more pollen invaded his body. His throat began to feel as if he had swallowed glass and he tasted iron as darkness enveloped him.
Chapter 7
Keller felt terrible. His chest ached and his head pounded, a condition made worse when he cracked an eyelid allowing sunlight in. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he waited for the pain to subside before trying to open them once more. This time it was more bearable, like having pins driven through his eyeballs instead of hot coals. The sun looked to be past midday, but he had no way to know if it was the same day or two or three days later from when he had passed out. He was in a room he did not recognize, on a very soft bed that would never be found in an inn. There were small paintings hanging from the walls and finely crafted furniture around him.