Dark Priest

by Dale Vice

  “I want you to succeed where I failed!”

  Anelle’s brown hair rippled as she shook her head. “Hengel is taking care of it. You should not have interfered, and I certainly won’t.”

  “Do you believe that High Priests can’t make mistakes?”

  Anelle’s silence conceded the point. It was a lesson drummed into them at church – that only the Gods were perfect.

  “That’s why I came. Guide Jurgen is back from his travels. I’ve heard that he wants the High Priest to cancel the warrant for Chandor’s arrest and leave him alone. He and Eben will argue that the church should revert to just watching.”

  “They are wise, Tribon, and Hengel is steadfast. Hengel won’t just change his mind. And if he does, surely that means it is the right thing to do?”

  “No! They all disagree on the best course of action. Watching is a weak compromise. Listen, Hengel says we’re too close to the situation. But I think they are too far. They are arguing about theology – should people act on prophecies or not. They’re debating general philosophy, not specifics. We know Chandor! You and I have seen him, spent time with him. I’ve experienced The Painbinder Prophecies first hand – Eben has only read about them.” Tribon grabbed Anelle’s arm urgently, “You and I have different opinions, I know that. I believe with all my heart that Chandor is The Painbinder and that he should be killed to prevent global suffering. But you care about him. Right?”

  Anelle nodded. “You know I care about him.”

  “Then in this, we are aligned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re both Guardians. We know that death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “If you love him, you’ll kill him.”

  “What? Tribon, you’re sounding crazy.”

  “No, listen to me. If you kill him now, his soul is probably still safe. As misguided and obsessed as he is, he does trust the Gods and will receive their mercy after the Gates of Judgement. But if he carries on, he’s going to become more and more evil. You’ve seen it, I’ve seen it. I’m telling you, he killed priests without hesitation. He used defiled miracles and beat them to death with his mace. Every day that passes, Chandor moves further from the light. A time is soon coming, when he will be truly evil. And then when he dies, what will happen to his soul?”

  “Eternal damnation.”

  Tribon nodded.

  “But Tribon, you can’t kill someone just because you think they’re becoming evil. Chandor could repent any day. Even if he is evil, he could find his way back to the light given time.”

  Tribon shook his head as he looked at her sadly, “What are the chances of that, really? If Hengel couldn’t convince him, and you couldn’t reason with him, who can? Who will?”

  Anelle stood in silence, chewing on a stray strand of hair. She had no answer. Eventually, she said, “Maybe he’ll destroy the vampire.”

  “Oh come on! There are only a handful of people in this whole Duchy could fight a vampire and win. Lady West, Hans the Destroyer perhaps, but not even Guide Jurgen or Guardian Botha would face one alone. Chandor isn’t nearly that powerful. More likely, he’ll be killed and unwillingly be raised as a vampire himself.”

  “Then his soul would really be doomed for ever,” said Anelle, frowning.

  “Yes. Anyway, even if he somehow destroyed it. What then? Do you think suddenly he’ll find inner peace?” Tribon shook his head. “He can’t let go, Anelle. Once his current target is done, he’ll turn that anger on the church, and Fistoria. What Chandor doesn’t understand is that no amount of killing undead will bring back his family. So he’ll just get angrier and angrier, and eventually he’ll turn on the Gods and start to hate them.”

  “Another path to damnation.” She clenched her fists tightly. “Could he really be The Painbinder?”

  Tribon let the silence draw out for a while, then whispered, “I think there is a way to test him.” He held up the book he had been carrying and flicked through until he found the page he was looking for, then handed it across to Anelle.

  Quietly she read, “His heart knows no forgiveness. His mind shall not forget. His soul hungers for revenge; And he shall bind their pain and by their wounds take his power.” She looked at Tribon quizzically.

  “Don’t you see? You can use that to test Chandor. Meet with him and see if he’ll forgive you, or Hengel. If he is prepared to forgive, then he is not The Painbinder.”

  “And if he is?”

  Tribon looked steadily into her eyes. “If you kill him now, before his is completely corrupted, there is a good chance his soul will be saved.”

  Anelle sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s assume I agree, what’s your plan? He just beat six Guardians – I couldn’t kill him even if I wanted to.”

  Tribon growled, “I know Chandor is strong, but you were always the better fighter. You’ve been fighting your whole life. More importantly, there are two things that will be in your favour.” Tribon held out a vial of potion to her. It sparkled like diamonds, throwing off flashes of light even in the dimness of the dusty library. “This is an Anti-Magic Potion, one of the more powerful potions around. It provides complete resistance to all kinds of spiritual and magical attacks. Without his defiled miracles, it will be a fair fight and you can beat him. If I’d had it before, he wouldn’t have won.”

  Anelle reached for the vial and gasped as it pulsed at her touch, blazing for a moment before settling down into a gentle throb. She cocked her head to one side. “Why me? Why aren’t you going yourself?”

  “Trust me, I would if I could. Hengel knows I haven’t given up so prayed a geas over me – I can’t breathe outside the church grounds until it is lifted. I tried. It’s not a pleasant experience. Anyhow, I don’t have the other advantage that you have.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Trust. You will have the element of surprise. As his closest friend, Chandor will never expect you to try to kill him.”

  “That’s true. If we fight he’ll hold back and expect me to do the same. I should be able to get in a lethal blow. But...”

  Tribon laid a hand on her shoulder. He looked intently into her eyes. “Anelle, your whole life has been building towards this point. You fought your older brothers from the time you could walk. You stood up to the bullies in your village. You were saved from goblins by The Cleanser himself. Trained by the Fistorian Army. Sent to be a Guardian. What do you believe the Gods created you to do?”

  “To fight evil.”

  Tribon nodded slowly. “There is an evil growing in this world. Only you can stop it.”

  Anelle thought back to her last meeting with Chandor. His face had been twisted in anger. He wore a black outfit and a sword. He killed three Guardians. She recalled the image of him performing the defiled miracle on the hippogriff. His soul is at risk. She nodded decisively. “I’ll do it. To save him.”

  Tribon pulled a rolled map from inside his white cloak. He pointed to a spot along the border road. “You can intercept him here. His soul, and a hundred thousand more, depend on you.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Sanctuary

  Chandor waited impatiently until it was night, then packed the horses and re-donned his full armour. He mounted Rage and walked the horses slowly until he could see the lighter blue rectangle that marked the entrance.

  He pointed with the Shadow King’s shield towards the entrance and commanded, “Shadows, attack anyone near the entrance!”

  The shield surged against his arm. Indistinct black shapes leapt from the smooth face and darted forward. Chandor listened intently for the sounds of battle. When he heard nothing, he urged Rage into a trot. He gripped the Silver Sceptre tightly, ready for a fight. He braced himself as he reached the entrance, but there was no one there. He heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Follow me,” he commanded the shadows as he set off down the road.

  The night was cold but clear, and the almost-full moon painte
d the road and fields blue. Glancing back over his shoulder, he could see the supernatural shadows racing along the ground after him. When he reached the main road there was still nobody in sight. He halted to consider his options.

  The wagons definitely left Goldfield and Fort Dawn, but they never arrived in Lamar. They must have turned off somewhere between the two. Turning right, he set off down the main road back toward Goldfield and Fort Dawn. After about half an hour the shadows suddenly caught up with the horses and leapt back into the shield.

  Chandor grimaced, and said to the horses, “I guess it was unreasonable to assume they’d guard us all the time, hey boys? We’ll just have to be extra vigilant.” He looked up at the sky, asking Otec to protect him and his mission. He chuckled wryly as he heard the howl of a nearby wolf. “Not quite what I meant, Lord. But I’ll take whatever you give me.”

  He travelled solidly for a few hours before halting for the night. He tethered the horses and built a large fire. After rubbing the horses down, he removed his armour. He considered setting the shadows to guard him, but in the end decided half an hour was hardly worth it and that he would rather be able to call them if he was attacked.

  He was drifting off when he heard the booming clicks of a cracker beetle in the distance. Lying in his sleeping sack, he decided that if it approached the horses would wake him. I’ll speak to it like I spoke to Rage. I’ll persuade it to find easier food elsewhere. Feeling strangely peaceful, he fell asleep.

  He jerked awake from a nightmare in which the vampire had plunged its sword through his armour into his stomach and stared up into the moonlit sky. He built up the fire to drive back the cold and made himself coffee. Once he had meditated and spent time reading the Sacred Texts by the light of his Holy Symbol, he donned his armour, tunic and cloak, and he was soon ready to go.

  Around mid-morning he saw a merchant caravan approaching from the opposite direction. A trumpet blasted as soon as they spotted him. After a hasty conference, one of the mercenaries rode forward, hands in the air and helmet off.

  Puzzled, Chandor reined in and waited as the rider approached to shouting distance.

  “Greetings, traveller. I am Tobus from Fort Dawn, escorting this caravan to Lamar.”

  “Greetings,” Chandor called out warily.

  The man appeared to swallow. “Are you the one they call Sir Chandor the Dark Priest?”

  Chandor shrugged. “I am Sir Chandor of Bronsverj, Knight of Salanverj, and Shadow King. I can’t control what they call me.”

  “We don’t want any trouble, but unfortunately our wagons cannot leave the road.”

  “So what? Do they say I will steal your soul if I pass too close?” Chandor called sarcastically.

  The widening of Tobus’ eyes suggested that he hadn’t considered that, but had no doubt it was possible. “We… Is it possible for you and your wolves to go around us, Sir Chandor?”

  Chandor shook his head in exasperation. He sighed as he realised arguing or trying to correct the man was pointless. “Sure. We’ll go around.”

  He led the horses off the main road and picked his way around the caravan, noting that they set off as fast as possible as soon as he was past them. Shaking his head, he continued on his way.

  Thunderclouds were gathering in the afternoon sky when he approached the sign for Sanctuary. As soon as he saw it he knew that he had found his destination. I must have passed it on the way to Lamar Hold without registering. Perhaps I was too focused on my destination to be open to other options. He filed the thought away for further consideration before reading the stone obelisk.

  Lamar Hold: 24 miles

  Goldfield: 45 miles

  Sanctuary: 30 miles

  He had heard of the town of Sanctuary. It was a self-contained settlement outside of Fistoria, with a reputation for lawlessness and greed. Prospectors, traders and adventurers who wanted to live without the rule of law migrated there from the safety and order of King Ironfist’s oversight. The lying bastard earl tricked me. Of course the vampire lives outside of Fistoria!

  He had just turned Rage and Tough Guy onto the smaller road when a familiar call made him jump.

  “Chandor!”

  He looked around to see Anelle walking her warhorse horse towards him. His heart soared. She was dressed in full plate and the church whites. Her face was just visible through her visor.

  “I’m glad I found you,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Have you forgiven me?”

  “That depends, have you decided to come and help hunt the vampire that killed my family?”

  “No!”

  The vehemence in her voice cut him deeply. “Then leave me alone,” he snarled.

  She rode her horse closer and reached out with a gauntleted hand, “Chandor, I’m here to take you back to Tinsley, because I care for you. We can help you, if you let us.”

  Chandor smiled and leaned towards her. Misguided or not, it was good to have a friend.

  Her hammer blow was so unexpected he barely had a chance to move. Only his instinctive flinch ensured that the main force of the blow fell on his shoulder plates rather than his head.

  “What the…?” Chandor shouted as she struck again with her shield. He managed to fend it off with his free hand, but her next hammer thrust broke through his defences and bloodied his nose and lip.

  Through the taste of blood, he shouted the prayer of holding. “Be still, and know that Otec is God!” He ducked under another arc of the hammer, “I hold you for judgement in the Holy Name of Notomok!”

  Thick black vines with silver thorns burst from the ground and entangled Anelle from head to toe. But she simply flexed and a pulse of golden light blazed out to disintegrate them.

  Anelle leapt across the short distance between the two horses and grabbed him, pulling him from his saddle. They both crashed to the ground, rolled apart and came to their feet, facing each other.

  They started to circle. Chandor could tell Anelle was readying for an attack, even though he had still not lifted the Silver Sceptre from his belt. Before she was able to move he pointed at her face and called for darkness. If she’s blind, she’ll have to stop attacking. A line of darkness shot from his finger and arced toward her eyes, but Anelle swatted it aside with her hammer.

  “I know all about your defiled miracles, Chandor. Your twisted prayers won’t work on me. Now lay down your weapons.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Get it into your thick skull, I’m never returning to the church, and I have no intention of being arrested for crimes I haven’t committed. Don’t try and stand between me and my revenge.”

  “I’m taking you back, Chandor!” She ran towards him, hammer and shield swinging. Chandor was ready and ducked easily under her three-to-nine swing.

  Darting to Rage he grabbed the Shadow King’s shield and turned to face her. “Come on, Anelle, this is stupid,” he reasoned.

  She attacked again and Chandor used the Shadow Shield to prevent any of the attacks from landing, her blows sliding easily off the smooth obsidian face. He felt his anger rising. When he just managed to duck under a full-strength hammer blow, Chandor found he had unconsciously taken the Silver Sceptre in his right hand.

  Despite its weight, the Shadow Shield moved like magic, cutting off attacks that would otherwise have made it through. But even with its enhanced protection he knew it was only a matter of time before she really hurt him. He waited patiently until one of her attacks left her off balance. Then he lashed out with the Sliver Sceptre.

  It was a powerful downward smash that landed squarely on her shoulder plate and caused her to drop to one knee, but a moment later she was up and on the attack again.

  Chandor swayed to avoid a haymaker from her shield, and parried her hammer with his sceptre. He dodged two more potentially lethal strikes and then punched hard with his shield. His timing and aim were perfect. The leading edge slipped between her helmet and breastplate and slammed into her neck.

  She collap
sed to the ground, choking.

  “Let me be, Anelle. I’m going to kill that vampire and you can’t stop me.”

  “Please, Chandor. If you don’t drop this quest for revenge you’ll become The Painbinder, prophesied to be the most evil ruler in the history of the world!”

  Chandor turned and started to walk away. A moment later, he heard the scrape of her steel armour as she rushed up behind him. He braced himself but made no move to dodge and Anelle smashed her hammer on the back of his helmet, driving him to the ground. Chandor pushed himself to his knees but she jumped and used her full armoured weight to drive her shield down onto his back.

  He slumped to the ground in pain, and heard the creak of her armour as she lifted her hammer again. He rolled and the hammer crashed down into the ground where his head had been.

  Chandor rolled onto his back, “Frig, Anelle! That would have killed me!”

  She struck again but he deflected the blow with his shield before kicking out with an armoured foot to push her off balance. She stumbled and he seized the moment to roll to his feet.

  He glared at her through the slits in his helm. “If you come at me once more, so help me…”

  Anelle ran toward him, hammer raised. He waited until it started to fall before sweeping the Silver Sceptre in a clockwise motion, shattering her elbow and parrying the blow. She stumbled past him and Chandor slammed the Shadow King’s shield into her side, buckling her armour and breaking her ribs. A Midnight-to-Morning blow to her back drove her to the ground.

  “You’ve left me no choice,” he growled as he lifted the Silver Sceptre.

  He fought his conscience for a moment, before driving the heavy head downwards onto her helm which crumpled on impact.

  “Chandor…” she groaned, her voice slurred.

  Panting, he watched the blood pooling around her, and then walked around her towards Rage.

  “Help me,” Anelle sobbed from on the ground, “I’m dying.”