Dark Priest

by Dale Vice

  “See this?” Chandor shouted. “This is a Symbol of Holiness. It represents the Light! And where light goes, there can be no darkness.” He felt the weight of Otec’s authority behind him. “You are filth! I rebuke you! You cannot approach the sign of the Gods! You are unclean! Be gone! Be gone!” The last he shouted with utter conviction as he thrust the Symbol towards them, fully expecting them to turn and flee.

  The Symbol throbbed in his hand. A sound like a barrel of oil exploding filled the night. Blue flames engulfed the Holy Symbol and his whole arm. A wave of blue fire travelled out from him in a widening arc. When it reached the zombies, they burst into flame. They screamed and writhed, stumbling to the floor. They rolled but were unable to escape the holy fire which raged until nothing of them remained.

  Chandor stared at the spot where a moment before two zombies had stood. There was no sign of them but clumps of black soot on the ground. He threw back his head and shouted, “Praise Otec!” He couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at his Symbol in disbelief. “Gods, that was awesome!” he yelled into the night sky.

  Feeling invincible, he swaggered toward the gate, thanking the Gods aloud as he went. As he neared the gates, three skeletons whipped around at his approach and ran towards him. The bones clicked ominously as they came. Their fleshless mouths were open in soundless screams.

  Chandor grinned. He knew that skeletons were the weakest form of undead, and that if he could destroy zombies he could destroy skeletons too.

  “Vile creatures of darkness,” Chandor called boldly, “I do not fear you! You have no place here. I am alive, filled with the blood of Notomok and the power of Takatifu Roho. I rebuke you. Go back whence you came. Be gone!”

  A sound like lightening ripped the air. The Holy Symbol bucked in his hand. It pulsed once with a blue-white light that shone a hundred times brighter than the glow of the Continual Light spell. All three skeletons simply exploded.

  Chandor blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the after images from his eyes. Not even dust remained where the skeletons had stood. Chandor lifted his arms to the sky, one bearing his shield and the other holding the Holy Symbol, “The Gods are good!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

  A shaky voice called out from the village wall, “Who goes there?”

  Chandor looked to the top of the stone wall. Next to the tower that overlooked the gates to the village two soldiers huddled behind the stone pelmet. Their awed faces were lit by the dim glow of a shuttered lantern.

  “Who are you, a hero?”

  “Are you Guardian of Mankind?”

  “I am Chandor of the Dark Guardians. My order is dedicated to destroying the undead.”

  Their faces crumpled with relief and tears flowed freely down their faces. “May the Gods be praised!”

  “We are saved.”

  They threw down a rope ladder and Chandor climbed up to meet them on the wall, thankful for the hours of similar exercises he had done in his armour during his novitiate at Tinsley.

  “Thank you for coming!” exclaimed one of the guards, “We are living in a nightmare!”

  They introduced themselves as Klaus and Jorg and summarised the situation.

  “There are zombies and skeletons roaming the streets. Villagers are locked in their houses. At first we fought back, but even if we kill them they just rise again at sunset. If any of the living get killed it makes us even worse off as they become undead the next night. Now we’re just trying to survive.”

  Chandor nodded, “Unless you rebuke them, the bodies will keep rising until someone with sufficient authority does the Rite of Remembrance.”

  They looked at him expectantly.

  “Yes. That would be me.” He nodded grimly, “Show me where to start.”

  They led him to a locked door. It led into the tower which was meant to protect the gate. The door shook with methodical hammering. Groans came from the other side.

  “The others…” the soldier just shook his head.

  Chandor took a deep breath. “I’ll stand here in the doorway. I’m going to start praying, when I nod you unlock the door and pull it open.” He saw the fear on their faces and added, “Don’t worry. This is what I live for.”

  The soldiers took their positions at the door. Their knuckles were white where their fearful hands gripped their swords.

  Chandor stood with his Holy Symbol held out towards the door. “Otec is faithful to those who keep His commandments. But those who hate Him, He will repay with destruction.”

  Chandor nodded and the guards pulled open the door, revealing four more skeletons. “Face the wrath of Otec! You are rebuked! Be gone!”

  Once more, the Holy Symbol thundered, pulsed and blazed. Once more, the undead disintegrated before his faith. Chandor pumped the air with his shield arm, “Praise the Gods!”

  Klaus grinned and nodded, “Amen!”

  “Where to next?” Chandor asked.

  “The tower stairs lead down to the main gate and into this square,” Jorg pointed to the square. “From there…” he shrugged. “We’ve been trapped here on the wall for two days.”

  Chandor nodded. “Lock the door behind me.”

  He entered the tower and the door slammed behind him. His Symbol glowed brightly in the darkness. He made his way cautiously down the stairs. At the bottom, a broken door hung on one hinge.

  He pushed it open and stepped into the square. It was dark except for the light from his Holy Symbol. From his left came a scraping sound, and he jumped.

  Out of the shadows lurched a zombie with a spear through its chest. It was so unnatural that Chandor was momentarily transfixed. It stumbled closer to him and he raised his Holy Symbol, “In the name of Otec, I rebuke you!” The zombie went up in blue flames and Chandor turned to where new movement caught his eye.

  Eight skeletons emerged from the shadows across the square and ran towards him. “By Otec’s light! Be gone!”

  Thunder boomed and Chandor rode the jolting of the Symbol as he watched the pulse of light through narrowed eyes. Skeletons exploded in the night and Chandor started forward. Blinking to clear his sight, he headed for the darkness from which they had emerged. Only at the last instant, as a skeleton swung at him with pick axe, did he register that not all of them had been destroyed.

  Frantically he raised his shield, fending off the blow but stumbling backwards as he did so. He was off balance for the next blow and was saved only by the double plate of his cuirass. The skeleton hefted the pick once more, but Chandor had recovered and stepped forwards, sweeping his shield around in a haymaker. He smashed the skeleton in its ribs. They shattered beneath the steel. The skeleton collapsed and Chandor stood over it, panting.

  He was about to say the Rite of Remembrance, when he noticed movement at the edge of the light. He looked up and felt a chill run through him. A huge group of zombies, too large to count, was shambling towards him. His heart quailed in fear.

  Too many, I can’t destroy that many at once! Frig! Faster moving skeletons pushed through the slowly advancing crowd, jerkily running towards him.

  He needed to run, but pride held him in place. What will the soldiers think? Maybe I can rebuke a couple and then kill the rest with my shield and mace? He shook his head. Wisdom prevailed. He fled back up the stairs, shouting as went.

  The petrified soldiers had the door open for him, slamming and locking it as soon as he was through.

  “What happened?”

  “There were too many. Seven were destroyed when I rebuked them. I smashed an eighth which will rise again if I don’t do the Rite of Remembrance over it before tomorrow night.” He let out a deep breath, “Frig.”

  The soldiers looked desolated.

  Chandor removed his helm to wipe the sweat from his brow, and Jorg exclaimed, “No wonder! You’re just a boy, you don’t even have a beard yet!”

  Klaus elbowed Jorg and gave him a glare. Looking at Chandor, he asked, “What now?”

  “It’s not over, just give me a momen
t.”

  Chandor walked along the village wall, head down. He looked down into the square, but the undead weren’t visible. A moment later he knew why as the sound of hammering came from the tower door once more. He looked up to the stars and let out a deep breath whispering, “Otec, help me. I can’t believe you’ve brought me here only for me to fail.” He stared out into the darkness of the night. He thought he heard a voice whispering, “You are not alone.”

  He was about to argue that he was, when he realised that the voice was right.

  He walked back to the soldiers. “Are you still up for a fight?”

  They looked at him dubiously.

  “I can’t defeat them all alone, but with some help we can do this. You stopped fighting because it was pointless – the undead just rose again. I can put them down for good.”

  The two soldiers still looked uncertain.

  Chandor asked, “Did you see them come across the square? How many were there?”

  “About a hundred.”

  Chandor dropped his head. “Frig. That’s way too many for even three of us. What we need…” He grinned. “What we need is an army.”

  Once he had briefed them, the three of them made their way along the battlements to the far corner of the village where they used the rope ladder to climb quietly down into the next square. No sooner had their feet touched the ground than two zombies started lurching toward them. Chandor destroyed them smoothly with a word and Klaus pointed to a nearby door. When they reached it Jorg knocked, and called out quietly but urgently,

  “Nadja! Nadja, it’s me, Jorg. Let me in.”

  There was prolonged silence from the other side and Jorg was about to call again when a voice whispered back, “Jorg, is that really you?”

  “It’s me, open up.”

  “What are you doing out?”

  Jorg looked at the others, before he responded, “Freeing our town. I’ve got Klaus with me, and a Guardian. Open up.”

  They heard a bar being lifted and the door opened a crack. By the light of his Symbol Chandor looked down the shaft of a loaded crossbow. Nadja looked at them closely, then stood back to let them in. A young boy quickly closed the door and repositioned the bar, before grabbing a loaded crossbow of his own.

  “What’s all this about?”

  When both soldiers looked at Chandor, he introduced himself, “My name is Chandor. I’m a priest. I can rebuke undead and perform the Rite of Remembrance.”

  “You don’t look like Guardian of Mankind.”

  “I’m part of a new order, the Dark Guardians. We specialise in fighting the undead.”

  “What do you need me for?”

  “I can only take on a few at a time by myself, so I need back up. Jorg and Klaus said you’d be willing and able.”

  “We both are,” she confirmed, nodding at the boy.

  “Good. Then we’ll make our way from door to door, destroying any undead we find and systematically adding to our numbers. By the time we’re done there should be enough of us to take on the main group at the town gates. I’ll perform the Rite of Remembrance on any that we kill to ensure that they stay dead.”

  Chandor looked at and the fearful faces of Klaus, Jorg, Nadja and her son. He knew he should say some words of comfort or inspiration, but he had no idea what commanders said before they led their troops to battle.

  Instead, he went down on one armoured knee, removed his helm and bowed his head. He prayed for the Gods’ blessing in the coming battle, fuelling it with all his hatred of the undead. “We fight for the light. May the power of Takatifu Roho strengthen our hearts and guide our hands. And may the Gods be with us.” As he prayed, all the weapons started to glow with the same purple light he had seen when fighting the hydra. When he looked at the faces of his new friends, he could see that quiet determination had replaced the fear that prevailed moments before.

  “Payback time,” said Jorg, and the others nodded.

  They stepped back outside, into the dark, quiet square of 2nd Cluster. By the light of the glowing weapons and his Holy Symbol, Chandor and Jorg led the way to the next house, which had its door caved in. Chandor positioned the others in a wide semi-circle around the entrance and whispered instructions. Then he kicked the door wide open and stepped in, quoting verses from the Sacred Texts as he did so. The zombies inside burst into holy flame and were soon no more, and Chandor emerged to the sound of cheering.

  He scowled in frustration, “Quiet! Get behind me, quickly! We’re about to be swamped!”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when zombies and skeletons emerged from doorways all around the square.

  “Be gone, creatures of darkness. I rebuke you. Flee!” Chandor called, pointing to the ones nearest him. A wave of blue fire swept outwards and burned three skeletons and a zombie. The remaining undead lurched towards the living. Behind him, Chandor heard the thuds as three glowing bolts leapt from their bows. One of the skeletons dropped to the ground. Switching his Symbol for his mace, Chandor ran forward and crashed his shield into the next closest skeleton, driving it to the ground. It started to push itself to its feet, but Chandor swung his glowing mace and smashed its skull into fragments. It collapsed. As soon as Chandor was certain it would not rise again, he ran to where Jorg was under attack from a zombie that had obviously been the village smith. A powerful blow from its heavy hammer sent Jorg stumbling backwards. Chandor brought both shield and mace down on it simultaneously and whirled to find his next target. He was relieved to see the last zombie succumb to two purple charged crossbow bolts.

  A ragged cheer started, but Chandor quickly hushed them with an urgent whisper. “Quiet! The undead are drawn to the sounds of the living. Keep your voices down unless you want every skeleton and zombie in this place to descend on us at once. For Gods’ sake, the whole idea is that we take them out a few at a time.”

  He glanced around but was relieved not to see any more undead, so he turned to Klaus, “Where to next?”

  “The Bergmann family, if they’re alive.” He pointed to a closed door on the far side of the cluster. They made their way cautiously across the square, pausing only to allow Chandor to say the Rite of Remembrance over the downed undead.

  They reached the door and Jorg once again introduced them and they were soon joined by Bergmann and his eldest son, both of whom carried the pick axes of their trade. Once the younger son and Bergmann’s wife had locked the door safely behind them, they followed Klaus’ instructions to the house of the butcher, where their army grew once more.

  They went from house to house, destroying pockets of undead and slowly adding to their numbers. Many of the fearful villagers refused to open their doors, or opened it only to refuse to risk their lives in the fight. They were fifty strong by the time they had visited every house on the south side of the town.

  Chandor knew it was not enough.

  “We have to cross to the north side of the town. Is there any way other than across the main square?”

  Klaus shook his head.

  “Frig.” Chandor thought for a moment, then called the leaders of the group to him. “We need to get more people before we take on the large group of undead that is in the main square. Jorg and I are going to sneak across to the north side where we’ll do the same as we’ve done here. Once we’ve collected everyone we’ll gather at the far gate.” He paused and took a deep breath, “Unfortunately, it is risky. If the undead notice us while we’re crossing the square, they’ll mob us. There aren’t enough of us to take them on, so I’ll distract them for as long as possible. You’ll need to get all these people back to the safety of their houses – quietly!”

  “What will happen to you?” someone asked.

  “I will join Notomok in paradise.”

  The leaders swallowed and looked away, then moved off to tell the others the plan.

  “Good luck, Jorg, Chandor. We’ll wait here until you return with the rest, then we’ll finish this thing,” said Klaus.

  Chandor wrapp
ed his Holy Symbol, mace and shield in cloth so that their light would not give them away. Jorg did the same with his sword and then the two of them slipped into the shadows. On the far side of the square, they could see the undead milling aimlessly around the tower door and the main gates to the town, where they had left them.

  They were half way across the square, sticking to the wall where the shadows were deepest when Chandor’s boot hooked on something and he stumbled. He whipped around to watch in horror as a pitchfork and hoe fell towards the ground. Jorg’s hand flashed out and managed to catch the hoe. The fork eluded him and it crashed to the ground, ringing out like a bell.

  Chandor winced and looked to the undead, praying that somehow they hadn’t heard it. His prayer went unanswered. Like a pack of wolves, animated skulls lifted as one. Rotting faces swivelled to look at them. For a moment the undead were still, then they all started to come towards them.

  “Run! Run! I’ll distract them!” Chandor yelled, flicking the cloth from his Symbol. He ran at the massive undead mob, shining Holy Symbol held in front of him. “In the name of Otec, I rebuke you!” The Symbol blazed and the arc of fire rushed ahead of him, consuming the six nearest skeletons. Chandor only had time to loop the Symbol’s chain over his head and grab his mace before the second row hit him.

  He would have been dead if it had not been for his armour. Even covered in steel he felt the impact of blows to his arms, chest, legs and one on his helmet that made his head ring. Then he was fighting for his life. Swinging his shield and mace and he watched skulls and ribcages shatter beneath his faith-enhanced glowing weapons.

  For a while he managed to keep the mob at bay by striking with both weapons and moving so they could not surround him, but then a zombie broke a chair on his right arm and he failed to land a blow with his mace. The next moment he was surrounded, staggering as he was hit in the back and again in the chest.

  He lashed out with his shield and knocked a zombie backwards, then screamed as a blade found a gap in his armour and opened his arm. A succession of blows to his head and shoulders drove him to one knee. Immediately he felt a weight on his back as the undead leapt onto him and a moment later cold hands scratched him through the open face of his helm. He shook his shoulders and tried to push himself to his feet, but his boot slipped and he went to the ground.