Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

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Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 30

by Brian S. Pratt


  Righteous magic blasted through the opening and dark shapes fell. The Gyomar added its light and creatures of darkness wilted beneath the onslaught.

  Continuing the attack, Leathers passed through the doorway. The odor from the withering Torments was noxious. Their flesh boiled and hissed as Gyomias’ power banished their fell spirits.

  Sensing that no more creatures stood to bar their way, he reduced the glow to just enough to illuminate the passage. The light did little to dispel the sense of dread and foreboding that literally oozed from the walls. Bones from hundreds of victims formed a macabre mosaic on either side as the passage progressed.

  They came to another room. A sacrificial altar dominated the center. Large enough to accommodate three victims, it was awash in fresh blood. The bonds which would have secured the sacrifices lay open and empty.

  Where the passageway before had held a mosaic of bones, the walls of this room seemed to be nearly completely comprised of bones. None were complete, all had been broken in a manner that indicated that great suffering had been inflicted.

  Two doors, one to their left and the other to their right stood closed. The swordsmen moved one to each.

  “Careful,” Leathers warned.

  They well remembered what had been waiting behind the last door. The swordsman on the right waited while his comrade slowly pulled on the handle. As before, it swung open silently.

  Ready to dart backward should an attack materialize, he opened it further. When none came, he swung it open fully to reveal another passageway. Turning to his comrade, he said, “Your turn.”

  Drawing one of his swords, the swordsman placed his hand on the handle. The other swordsman moved into position, both swords at the ready.

  “Open it.”

  As the door cracked open, Leathers felt a pulse of evil belch forth from below. It sundered the door and blasted into the room sending the two swordsmen flying.

  The might of Gyomias filled Leathers as he countered the attack. Stronger by far than anything yet encountered, it took everything he had just to hold it at bay. This had to have come from the Heart of Darkness. They must be close.

  Gyomar moved to the fore. Their power, added to that of Leathers, overthrew the attack. When the dark tide subsided, he turned his attention to his men.

  They picked themselves off the floor. Shaken and bruised, but otherwise unscathed, they once again took position near the door.

  “Better let me take the lead from here.”

  “As you wish, Milord.”

  Stepping aside, they waited for Leathers to pass into the passage then followed close behind. The pair of Gyomar brought up the rear.

  Not relinquishing the power of his god, Leathers glowed with righteous might. Even the warm, reassuring light of Gyomias could not banish the cold feeling of terror permeating this place. Mosaics with complete human skeletons as centerpieces lined both walls at ten feet intervals.

  Twisted and gnarled, the bones hardly resembled those of humans, but that they had once been human vessels filled with hope and promise, there could be no doubt. Eyeless sockets watched as the intruders passed. Leathers strode purposefully, ignoring the unseen forces. At the fourth pair of mosaics, his stride faltered. For the skeletons at the centerpiece were those of newborn babes.

  “The promise of life, stolen.”

  He glanced back to the swordsmen. “If for no other reason we do this, we do this for them.”

  The swordsmen nodded silently, Leathers’ sadness mirrored in their eyes.

  With renewed determination, he set off, pace quickened to see an end to this.

  Another six pairs of these ghastly mosaics fell behind before a deeper darkness moving ahead caught his eye. Coming to a stop, he held up his hand.

  “What is it, Milord?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Moving like an oily cloud in the dark, it made its way toward them. “Stand ready.”

  Specks of red flashed like insects within the dark mass. As it drew closer, the flashes could be seen moving about, like dust drawn from the ground in a gale. There was definitely power contained within; they could feel it.

  Magic surged outward in a blaze of glory from Leathers’ outstretched hand. Holy might struck the dark mass. Red specks exploded outward in a shower of sparks as the power of Gyomias rent asunder the evil construct.

  But instead of falling, the specks gained in speed as they shot toward Leathers.

  Calling once more upon his god, light suffused the passage. Specks exploded in microbursts upon contact with the field of righteousness leaving a fetid, cloying odor reminiscent of an old grave.

  The swordsmen started forward but were forestalled by Leathers’ upraised hand.

  “Wait.”

  Something was not right. An unidentifiable foreboding settled upon Leathers as he watched the fine dusty residue of the obliterated sparks settle to the ground.

  A moment passed, then another. There was something….

  Turning to the swordsman on his right, he said, “Give me two coins.”

  The swordsman dug a pair of coppers from his pouch and handed them to Leathers.

  Holding onto one, Leathers tossed the other into the passageway ahead. It struck the stone floor, bounced once, then rolled a dozen feet further before curving and coming to a stop against the wall. Its thin trail could barely be seen within the field of fine dust particles.

  Taking the next coin, he summoned the might of Gyomias, and allowed the glow to encompass and pass through the coin for several moments. When he released the magic the metal emitted a soft, barely perceptible glimmering. He then tossed it as he had the first.

  Before it hit the floor, a cloud of dark particles exploded upward and enveloped the coin. Moving in a violent vortex, the dust whirled and twisted as it spun the coin over and over, never once allowing it to reach the ground. Then as soon as it had begun, it ended.

  Corroded, pitted and but a quarter of its former mass, the coin landed upon the floor. All traces of the glimmering were gone. Even what little luster the coin had originally held had been removed. It was as lifeless a piece of metal that any of those in witness had ever seen.

  One swordsman looked questioningly to Leathers.

  “It attacked the holy power of Gyomias.”

  The swordsman nodded, then turned his attention to the span of passageway lying before them. Fifteen feet or more lay coated in the fine dark dust. “How do we get past?”

  “We trust in Gyomias.”

  With that, Leathers motioned for them to step back. Closing his eyes, he summoned the power of his god and glowed like the sun.

  The edge of the dust field rose in response, as if seeking the source of the holy aura.

  Stepping forward, Leathers prayed for protection. On his fifth step, dust erupted.

  A vicious maelstrom slammed into him, seeking, prying, all the while trying to destroy that which was good and holy. He felt the evil of it leeching away the power. But more was given to sustain him.

  Step by step he worked his way toward the middle of the maelstrom. Each step grew progressively harder as he was buffeted by what felt like gale-force winds. When at last he reached the middle of the field, when the entirety of it was active and fighting to destroy him, he stopped.

  Raising his hands, he turned his gaze upward. “Gyomias!”

  A wellspring of power surged outward from within. It infused the righteous glow, caused it to grow a hundredfold times more luminescent.

  Cracks formed in the maelstrom from the onslaught; ribbons of light broke through in an ever expanding spider web-like network. Fell and dark powers sought to strengthen the attack. But they could not endure. Finally the maelstrom simply disintegrated and the presence of evil was gone.

  Leathers held the power for a full two heartbeats longer before allowing the might of Gyomias to recede. When the glow faded to soft ambience, all traces of the dark dust were gone.

  “Praise, Gyomias.”

  Leath
ers glanced back and nodded. “Indeed.”

  Striding forward, he passed another half dozen of the macabre mosaics before the passageway ended at the mouth of a massive dark, cavern.

  A broad stairway led downward; darkness obscured the cavern’s ceiling; jagged points of stalactites protruded into the light from somewhere far above. A waft of fetidness rose from the dark depths below. Within that darkness, the high priest of T’Lea waited.

  “We are here, gentlemen.”

  Leathers paused before the first step. “No matter what awaits us, Gyomias will see us through. Leave the high priest to me; the remainder… purge.”

  “What of captives?”

  The swordsman received a look of sadness. “Nothing can remain. So Gyomias has commanded.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  Wings unfurling, the two Gyomar leapt and soared outward into the upper reaches of the cavern. Weaving in and out among the stalactites, their nimbus threw back the dark. But down below, there was a blackness their light could not overcome.

  Power rumbled within that deeper darkness. Energy of the fellest kind rolled outward, toward those upon the steps. Swirling clouds of hatred boiled forth and upon leaving the darkness, materialized into dozens of T’Lea’s pets; diminutive creatures barely three feet in height; misshapen, twisted, and exuding pure malevolence and hate.

  “Let’s end this.”

  Righteous power imbued Leathers and the emanation put the glow generated by the Gyomar to shame.

  The swordsmen preceded him down the steps. Blades danced and creatures fell. When the first wave was overcome, another materialized and the battle continued.

  Leathers paid little heed to the battle swirling around him. He knew these creatures were little more than pests for his swordsmen; easily dealt with. The true battle remained deep within the darkness. He felt it; a beating of malevolence that gave these creatures life. No victory could be achieved as long as the Heart of Darkness continued to leach goodness from the world.

  Battle raged as the trio descended. None of the pets made it through their web of blades. Upon reaching the fringe of the deep darkness, the last fell and the cavern was again silent.

  “Gyomias has no power here, mortal.”

  Ignoring the taunt, Leathers held out his hand. The glow brightened but the darkness held fast. Continuing to increase in luminosity the might of Gyomias soon grew painful and eyes were averted. Still the darkness held.

  Dark powers lent it strength and it withstood the onslaught. Finally, the blinding light faded until all that remained was a soft glow surrounding Leathers.

  He sighed. “Steel yourselves, gentlemen.”

  With that, he stepped forward and passed into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  All sight and sound vanished. He felt the power of Gyomias within him, knew that it radiated outward keeping the evil at bay, yet there was no visible sign that it was so.

  Cloying, fetid, and sorrow-filled were but pale descriptions of the reality within this darkness. It sought to enter him, fill him, ruin him; but Gyomias held him safe.

  The two swordsmen remained at his side; he sensed this more than anything else. Reaching out, he laid a hand upon each allowing their god’s might to flow to them, filling them, guiding them. When his hands broke contact, a tenuous strand of power remained; kept them connected.

  Augmented by the power of Gyomias, their senses picked up indistinct shadows within the greater darkness. Trusting in their god, swords struck and evil fell.

  Leathers sought The Heart of Darkness. He felt its malevolent beating, giving strength to the creatures that infested this place.

  Death awaits, mortal. It hungers for your pain.

  His mind’s eye directed him toward a flight of steps leading down. There welled forth the greatest concentration of evil. Giving his swordsmen direction through the link of power, they preceded him into the opening.

  T’Lea’s pets threw themselves forward only to be cleaved and destroyed by blades shining with righteous power. Torments joined the fray to their ruination. Step by step the trio descended into the heart of T’Lea’s High Temple.

  Power surged and struck.

  Pausing only a moment, Leathers countered with the might of Gyomias and overthrew the attack. Its source lay not far ahead; he could now clearly sense its location. Many priests were gathered round the Heart; twenty, maybe more.

  “We have arrived.”

  The wave of Pets and Torments crashed upon the rocks of righteousness and were sundered. Leathers gave them little heed; his focus was on the Heart and those surrounding it. When the last minion of evil was vanquished, darkness of the fellest kind built around the Heart. With its every beat the evil deepened.

  Leathers felt priests dropping as the Heart drained their life, drawing it into itself; adding to its power. Through a miniscule strand of magic twining from him, back out of the darkness, and to a Gyomar standing just without, he sent the message, “Stand ready.”

  Others stationed in a continuous line-of-sight along the temple’s dark passages to the surface unfurled their wings. Dozens took flight above the valley wherein lay T’Lea’s last bastion on this world.

  Vile evilness oozed from everywhere in answer to the Heart’s call. If not for his strength of will and faith in his god, Leathers would have succumbed to the hopelessness and sorrow inundating him.

  …beat…

  Your cause is hopeless

  …beat…

  All is lost

  …beat…

  Your faith is false

  …beat…

  Die!

  A thought from Leathers launched Gyomar into action.

  Those in flight above the valley burst into light. Catching the sunlight, amplifying it, adding to it their essence, they sent it in a flash of blinding righteousness to the solitary Gyomar deep within the valley positioned before the temple’s entrance. It caught the power and sent it to the next stationed deeper within the temple.

  From one Gyomar to the next, the power of the sun traveled nearly instantaneously through passageways that had never before known more than the brightness of a candle or torch. The walls fairly screamed in protest as righteous light sterilized a millennium of evil.

  Upon reaching the cavern, it slammed into the deeper darkness concealing the lower reaches; ripping it asunder.

  As fell power surged from the Heart, the light struck Leathers. It blasted outward from him in righteous fury, shattering the Heart’s attack and slamming into the Heart itself. In that moment, the world seemed to pause.

  Then a fissure opened through the Heart’s center and a wail of supreme hatred and misery boomed forth.

  Leathers funneled every bit of power into the fissure. Evil fought to seal the rift, but without T’Lea’s priests and worshipers, the Heart no longer had a wellspring of power upon which to draw. With a final surge, Leathers cracked the Heart asunder.

  Dark power blasted forth. Leathers and the swordsmen were knocked off their feet and crashed into the steps. Unbelievable vileness washed over them, like a river of filth, then it was over.

  The light of a Gyomar at the top of the steps filtered its way down. Leathers glanced up at it and sighed.

  “Are you all right, milord?”

  Offering Leathers a hand, a swordsman helped him to his feet. His comrade stood next to them with sword in hand.

  “You can put that away,” Leathers said. “The only evil that remains is but a faint echo.”

  They were in a small room with an altar as black as night as its centerpiece. It and the floor surrounding the altar were awash with blood. Off to the left lay dozens of recently sacrificed people; men, women, and children.

  Before the altar lay what remained of the high priest; naught but ashes and within that pile of ash, lay the shattered remains of the Heart. Bodies of T’Lea’s last priests flanked him to either side.

  One swordsman stepped toward the shattered Heart.

  “Here.�


  Turning, the swordsman took the golden pouch Leathers held out.

  “Place it in this,” Leathers said. “And do not touch it with your hands.”

  Nodding, the swordsman replied, “Yes, milord.” Kneeling, he used the tip of his knife to slide the Heart’s remains into the pouch.

  The other swordsman stood off to the right at the top of a descending staircase. He gestured to the dark depths. “Milord, shall I investigate?”

  “Yes,” Leathers replied. Calling forth the power of Gyomias, he caused a glowing nimbus to surround the swordsman to illuminate the way. “But touch nothing.”

  As the swordsman disappeared down the steps, Leather crossed to the stack of bodies. He could almost feel the terror and pain still radiating outward from T’Lea’s victims. Raising his hands, he prayed as he moved them to and fro above the deceased, allowing the soothing radiance of his god to settle their spirits.

  “Find your peace,” he said. “May Gyomias aid you in reaching the loved ones that have gone before.”

  The radiance diminished and he lowered his hands. The feeling of terror was gone; replaced with one of relief. If for no other reason, he was glad this world would forevermore be rid of the evil that T’Lea and his priests inflicted upon the innocent. They had been a cancerous infection he was proud to say it had been his destiny to eradicate.

  “Milord!”

  Turning to the steps the swordsman had descended, Leathers moved to the opening. “What did you find?”

  “We have survivors.”

  “You know our missive.”

  There was a pause before the swordsman said, “Milord, one is a priest of Asran; another is a child, a girl.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Leaving the swordsman to finish collecting the remnants of the Heart of Darkness, Leathers descended the stairs to a narrow rough-hewn passage. The radiant glow from the swordsman emanated from a room twenty paces beyond the base of the steps.

  Therein Leathers found the swordsman standing at the far end of a slightly wider passage in front of a line of cells that extended some hundred feet or so. The doors to all but one stood open. It was before that closed door that the swordsman beckoned Leathers to his side.

 

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