Dark Priest

by Dale Vice

  He thought he was done. But suddenly, the weight lifted off his back, and there was a pause in the battery. He surged to his feet. A zombie lurched towards him and he drew back his shield for a punch. Before he drove forward, a pick axe gutted the zombie and Bergmann appeared on his left. The zombie on his right staggered as crossbow bolts opened its stomach.

  For a minute the tide turned, and Chandor, Jorg and Bergmann advanced, but then the sheer numbers of the undead started to drive them back again. No sooner had Chandor swept a skeleton off Bergmann’s shoulder than another replaced it. On his right, he saw Jorg collapse as an axe felled him. Chandor punched a zombie in its face with his shield and it staggered but didn’t go down.

  “Die, damn you!” Chandor yelled, leaping forward with his mace lifted high. He never finished the blow. A pulse of light burst from the Holy Symbol hanging around his neck. The zombie, along with the nearest three skeletons, crumbled to dust.

  Flabbergasted, Chandor glanced down at his Symbol. Can I just rebuke them again and again? Dropping his mace, he grabbed his Symbol and thrust it towards the undead that ripped at Jorg, “I rebuke you!”

  Four undead burned in holy flames and Chandor stepped towards the remaining two, “I told you to go!” he yelled. They too crumbled in the face of his supernatural authority. He whirled facing the next wave with his hand outstretched. “In the name of Otec!” He hadn’t even finished the sentence before the pulse destroyed them. “And Notomok!” he bellowed as blue flames rolled out in every direction. “And Takatifu Roho!”

  He advanced, and the undead crumbled before him, between two and ten at a time. He only had to invoke the authority of the Gods once more for a new pulse or wave to ripple out and clear a hole in the undead army in front of him. He lost count of the number of undead that he had rebuked.

  Even with his new power, he would have been overwhelmed if it hadn’t been for the villagers’ support. Endless bolts flashed past him. Swords flashed, and villager’s makeshift weapons rose and fell all around him.

  Suddenly, he found there were no more undead nearby. He quickly scanned the square and saw one or two last zombies falling at the hands of multiple villagers. As quickly as it had begun, the battle was over.

  A ragged cheer went up and Chandor realised that there were far more people than he had last seen.

  “We couldn’t just run back to our homes,” Bergmann explained, “so we attacked. The sound of fighting drew the undead from the north cluster, but the rest of the village also heard it. Almost everyone that’s alive came out to make a last stand.”

  “You’ve done it, Guardian! The village is free!”

  Chandor sagged to his knees.

  He was surrounded by hundreds of villagers, clapping him on the back, saying thank you, and thanking the Gods for his intervention.

  A powerful voice cut through the clamour, “That’s enough! Enough! Everybody move back. Bergmann, Klaus, Serj, Hahn – start organising a clear up. We need all the dead gathered into one place so that Guardian Chandor can perform the Rite of Remembrance. We’ll bury and mourn them tomorrow, but right now we need to consolidate this victory. Also, I want a large, well-armed group of you to do a thorough search of the village and make sure we haven’t missed one or two undead. You lot, find out what help Claudia needs in tending the wounded.”

  Once they had gone, the tall man in the breastplate and helm introduced himself, “I’m Scholz, mayor of Salanverj. Thank you. You have saved our village.” He handed Chandor a water skin, “We are in your debt. Anything you need, you can have.”

  Chandor drank deeply and pushed himself to his feet. He was exhausted, physically, emotionally and spiritually, but he knew there was still work to be done, “Where’s Jorg?”

  The mayor pointed and Chandor made his way over to the dead soldier. Chandor looked down on the mutilated body and sighed, knowing that even the most miraculous healing could not help him. Could I pray for him to be resurrected? He shook his head sadly, knowing that his faith was not strong enough.

  He joined Claudia moving amongst the wounded, sewing, splinting and bandaging until he was called to perform the Rite of Remembrance.

  The dead had been laid out in two piles; undead that had been re-killed, and people that had been killed by the undead in the battle. Chandor knew it made no difference. As he looked at the bodies on both piles he thought, They are all just empty shells now. Their souls all on golden paths. Young or old, rich or poor, good or bad; our bodies mean nothing in death.

  The villagers all gathered around. Chandor was glad of the formalised words of the Remembrance Rite that meant he did not have to find anything of his own to say. He stood as requested on the chair provided, so that everyone could see him, and he called out over the dead, “With the authority of Otec I seal each of these portals. In the name of Notomok, I consecrate these bodies so that they may not be used by the undead. May Takatifu Roho grant their souls peace.” Chandor drew the symbol of the Gods over each mound of bodies. “Go to the Gates of Judgement, trusting in the love, wisdom and mercy of the Gods.”

  He stepped down from the chair.

  The mayor approached him, “Is that it?”

  Chandor nodded, “They will not rise again.”

  “Good!” said Scholz. He let out a deep sigh. “Let me introduce Theunis. He will look after you.”

  “Good evening, Sir,” said an aged man. “I suspect you would appreciate a bed.”

  Chandor nodded wearily.

  “Then follow me. Everything is prepared for you.”

  Chandor was lead to a lavish house in the wealthy cluster. He was shown to a bedroom where a warm basin was waiting for him to wash his face and hands. Chandor gratefully did so and collapsed into bed. In moments he was asleep.

  CHAPTER 22

  Rage, Sir, and the Silver Sceptre

  Chandor tossed and turned in the thick soft sleeping sack, fighting unseen enemies. Something tugged at his mind – something he had forgotten.

  “Sandy!”

  He leapt from the comfortable bed and stumbled to the door. His body was a mass of bruises and cuts. Overnight he had stiffened. He reached for the door and cried out in pain as a scab on his arm ripped open again.

  “No, no, no, no,” he groaned as the dread washed over him. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have forgotten her outside? Oh, Otec, please let her be alright. Please, please, please.

  Still in his sleeping tunic he ran for the door, ignoring the bewildered Theunis as he bolted out the house.

  The sun was already well up. The village was a hive of activity as they started to repair the ruins of their lives.

  “Chandor!” A number of villagers called out warmly, but he ignored them and stumbled barefoot on towards the main gate. The sense of dread grew. Please let her have escaped. Please let there have been no more undead outside. Oh, please, Otec. Have mercy.

  The main gate was closed and barred and Chandor’s heart sank even lower.

  “Morning, Chandor,” came the cheerful call from atop the wall. He looked up to see Klaus and Nadja smiling warmly at him.

  “Open the gate! I have to go out.”

  “Don’t be crazy. There are still undead wandering around out there. We’ve been picking them off from up here.”

  Nausea washed over him and he had to swallow hard to stop himself from throwing up. “Sandy, my horse. I left her out there!” he sobbed, his voice breaking and tears flowing freely down his face.

  “Oh, frig.” The compassion on Klaus’s face showed that, like Chandor, he suspected the worst. “We’ll be down in a moment.”

  “Why don’t you go and put on your armour while I gather some volunteers?”

  “There’s no time! Sandy might still be alive. I’m going now!” Chandor shouted, and started towards the heavy wheel that opened the gates.

  He saw the look that passed between Klaus and Nadja, and chose to ignore it. They joined him at the bottom as he reached the gates.

&nbs
p; Behind him, Klaus said, “Nadja, close and bar the gate as soon as we’re out. Don’t let anyone do anything stupid.”

  Nadja opened the gates just wide enough for Chandor and Klaus to slip through and then shut it again. Outside lay numerous bodies of zombies and skeletons, riddled with bolts. Chandor picked his way through, acutely aware of his bare feet.

  “We’ve been shooting them from the safety of the wall. It’s worthwhile again now that you can do the Rite…”

  Chandor wasn’t listening. As soon as he had cleared the shards of bone, he started to jog along the dirt road, back the way he had come the night before. Sandy, please be ok. Please, please, please.

  As he neared the spot where he thought he had tethered Sandy, he eyes scanned the vicinity anxiously, “Sandy? Sandy? Are you here, girl?”

  He couldn’t see her and for a moment hope soared in his heart. Then it crashed as he saw a still heap on the ground. He ran towards her, knowing as he did so that she was dead.

  “No!” he screamed as he threw himself down on top of her.

  Her body was cold and still, covered in jagged wounds. The motionless body of a dead zombie, and the bones of a skeleton lay around her. She had gone down fighting. Her head lay awkwardly tangled in the reins which remained stubbornly tied to the tree. It is my fault, Chandor thought, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. She’s dead because of me. Oh Notomok, please forgive me. Holy Otec, I’ll do anything if you’ll bring her back.

  The most powerful priests, like Lady West and The Cleanser, had such faith that they could bring the dead back to life. Rather than creating a false portal which allowed dead bodies to rise as undead, the miracle of resurrection reopened the door between life and death and allowed a spirit to return to its living body.

  Chandor placed both hands on Sandy’s dead body and prayed with all his might, begging the Gods to answer him. He recalled every story in the Sacred Texts relating to resurrections to try and help him believe, but deep in his heart he knew it was futile. Sandy is dead, and I can’t bring her back; such a miracle is beyond me. Giving up, Chandor wept.

  He cried until he had no more tears. Guilt, remorse and regret lashed at him. He begged the Gods to undo what had been done, even offering to take her wounds onto himself, but only the low howl of the wind answered him. Eventually, when his mourning was done, his feelings coalesced into rage.

  “I’ll kill them all! Every last undead on earth!”

  He reached out absently and gathered a sharp piece of bone. It was a shattered remnant of the skeleton that Sandy had kicked to oblivion. Taking it in his left hand, he stretched his right hand wide and sliced it open in one fluid motion. The pain focused his thoughts. He looked down at the blood pouring from the cut and dedicated his life to destroying the undead.

  “The undead have taken the last of my family; justice requires vengeance. By the Gods, I swear that while there is breath in my body, I will hunt them down and destroy them.”

  When he was done, he pushed himself to his feet, groaning as stiffness, bruises and cuts warned him of his fragile state. Closing his eyes, he prayed for healing. Warmth suffused his body and the worst of the pain subsided. When he opened his eyes, open wounds had closed and the heaviest bruises had subsided. He prayed some more, and his body was healed further, leaving the cut on his hand as a faint white scar.

  Then he took his saddle bags and bridle off Sandy’s dead body and hefted them over his shoulder. He turned to Klaus who had remained on guard a respectful distance away, “Let’s go. We have work to do.”

  Chandor performed the Rite of Remembrance over the bodies by the gates, ensuring that they would not rise again.

  “I’m going to get armed and return here,” he said to Klaus. “Gather a group of volunteers to sweep the countryside for any remaining undead. I would like this entire area to be secure before we sleep tonight.”

  Theunis met him at the door with a plate of food, which Chandor devoured hungrily. When he was done, Theunis helped him into his armour.

  “Here you go, Sir Chandor,” Theunis said, holding out Chandor’s shield for him.

  “You don’t have to call me ‘Sir’, or look after me. I’m not some spoiled duke.”

  “It’s not for you…” Tears filled the man’s eyes. “I lost my whole family to the undead. Children, grandchildren. And my employer. He was a good man and I’ve worked with him since my apprenticeship. I don’t know what I’ll do now. Looking after you keeps me busy.”

  Chandor had no words for him, so he said nothing as he left the house.

  As he walked through the streets people bowed deeply to him and reached out to touch his cloak. Other villagers brought children to him so he could bless them.

  “I’m not that kind of priest,” Chandor growled. When his words did not deter the parents he quickly drew the sign of the Gods on the children’s foreheads and the villagers went away satisfied.

  Before he could move on a teenage boy ran up to him, “Guardian, teach me how to do the Rite of Remembrance.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Symon”

  Chandor gave him a long, level stare. “The Rites aren’t some parlour trick or a means to glory. Why do you want to know them?”

  The boy shrugged. “Someone needs to do them when you’re gone. Otherwise, the dead will just come back, won’t they?”

  Chandor nodded slowly.

  Symon continued, “Lots of people say they believe in the Gods, but they don’t really. Or they do, but they don’t really believe that the Gods will really answer their prayers.”

  “But you do?”

  The boy shook his head, “I don’t. But I want to. I want to have faith.” He laughed and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, “If you can’t teach me, no one can!”

  Chandor’s heart softened and he nodded. “Very well. This village needs a new priest. I’ll teach you the Rite. Do you have a Holy Symbol?”

  Symon reached under his tunic and retrieved his Symbol, a Godstar like Chandor’s. It was tied to a leather cord and made of wood, but it felt holy.

  Chandor nodded, “Good. That will do well. Come with me.”

  It was late afternoon when he returned for lunch, but Chandor was pleased with the day’s efforts. The small band of volunteers had circled the village and surrounding fields, finding and killing the last remaining undead. Chandor has specifically not destroyed the undead by rebuking them, but had rather let bolts and steel do the job.

  Symon had learned the Rite quickly and had performed them adequately under Chandor’s supervision. It was impossible to know if Symon’s faith was sufficient to have closed the portal in the afterlife, but Chandor suspected it was.

  We’ll know tomorrow. If none of them have risen, Symon’s God-given authority will have been confirmed.

  Still in his armour, Chandor ignored the meal that was set out for him. He had missed his morning meditation. Only once it was completed did he fall upon the food.

  “Theunis,” he said once he had finished eating, “there is something you can do for me. I need…” Chandor’s eyes stung and he had to gather himself before he could continue. “I need to buy a new horse. Preferably a war horse, but if not that, then the best horse you can find. I have a lot of travelling ahead of me, and I’ll be taking it into battle.”

  The old servant smiled for the first time since he had been serving Chandor. “Thank you, Sir. Something useful to do at last. I won’t let you down.”

  Theunis left, but returned a moment later with Mayor Scholz in tow.

  “I believe you’ve been busy again today, Sir Chandor?” the mayor smiled.

  “Mayor Scholz, I am neither the lord of any keep, nor the ruler of any lands, nor do I have any honorary titles. I am just Chandor.”

  The mayor shrugged, “Very well, Chandor. There are two things I need to talk to you about. Firstly, do you have any advice as to how I should deal with this situation?”

  “What do you mean?”


  “My people are lost, confused, and hurting. I was thinking that you must have seen this before? Perhaps you could say a speech, or something?”

  The mayor looked at him expectantly, but Chandor just shook his head. “I’m not a speech maker.” He thought back to his own recovery at the church, “What I can suggest is to keep people busy. Doors need repairing, fields need to be tended, livestock managed, equipment mended. And if there isn’t enough real work, get them making something to remember the dead by; A statue or a wall of remembrance. Anything to keep them occupied.”

  Scholz nodded and said, “You have the wisdom of the Gods.”

  Chandor snorted, “No, just some experience. What was the second thing?”

  “It’s a delicate subject. You’ve saved the whole village, and we’re in your debt. I know what reward we promised, but we need every gold we have to rebuild and see us through this difficult time...”

  Chandor stared at the mayor coldly. “I didn’t do this for a reward. Undead are evil and need to be destroyed. I’m here because the Gods sent me here.”

  The mayor smiled in relief but Chandor did not care that he was doing the mayor a favour, nor that he was potentially giving up a substantial amount of gold. “The Gods ensure I have what I need to achieve my purpose. You reward me however you see fit. But know that Otec, who sees the heart, will judge you and your village. Freely you have received; freely give.”

  Mayor Scholz nodded. “Thank you for your understanding, Guardian Chandor. We will do what is right.”

  The mayor stood, bowed and left. Chandor sat, puzzled for a moment. He stood up and was about to leave when Theunis walked in, a broad smile on his face, “I think I may have found your horse.”

  “So soon?”