Dark Priest

by Dale Vice

  He was about to try and slip away when two wolves suddenly broke off and hurled themselves at him. One leapt for his throat. He met it with a well-timed blow from his shield. The other grabbed his steel-clad leg and started tugging.

  Rage reared and kicked, almost throwing Chandor from his back. Even then, the wolf wouldn’t let go of Chandor’s leg. Another wolf leapt at him. Chandor brought the Silver Sceptre down on its muzzle, sending it back to the ground. The massive black wolf pounced on it and ripped out its throat.

  Two wolves leaped on the one that had his leg, and it released him with a howl of pain. It shook free of them and streaked into the forest with its tail between its legs.

  Suddenly the clearing was quiet. To his left, four wolves lay dead. He had killed only one. He glanced to his right. Jenna stared back at him wide-eyed and white-faced, her arrow still nocked. On his left the massive black wolf and three others watched the edge of the trees attentively for a few more moments, then seemed to relax.

  The black wolf turned and eyed Chandor questioningly, then sat on its haunches. Chandor waited, shield and sceptre gripped tightly in his hands. All at once, the three other wolves trotted into the woods and disappeared. Chandor could have sworn that the black wolf grinned at him as it lay down.

  Chandor touched Rage’s flanks and the horse started forward, Jenna close by their side. When the wolf made no move to stop them, Chandor twisted in his saddle and made a sign of blessing in the air. “May the Gods be with you, for whoever is not against me, is surely for me.”

  He watched carefully as he and Jenna continued down the path, but the wolf made no attempt to follow.

  A hundred yards down the path, Jenna was violently ill. “That was too much. Is battle always like that?”

  Chandor nodded, glad that most of his face was hidden behind his steel helm. He felt exhilarated and alive.

  “I thought we were dead. I didn’t know you could summon wolves just like the baron!” She looked at him with newfound respect, and Chandor chose not to reply.

  Jenna was shaking as she continued, “Chandor, I can’t do this. Even with you by my side.”

  “You don’t have to. Just get me to the entrance.”

  “Will you save my sister for me?”

  Chandor shrugged, “I’ll do what I can. Once I’ve destroyed the vampire, everyone that is currently under his spell should be freed.”

  She considered his words, then said, “You’re not actually here to save us, are you, Dark Priest?”

  Chandor’s eyes were hard as he shook his head. “I’m here for revenge. The vampire killed my family and ruined my life, and it will perish for that. The Gods have called me to banish its evil from the earth. If destroying the baron frees your sister, benefits the town and makes the world a better place, that’s great. But I won’t jeopardise my quest for anything.”

  “Just remember that I love her like you loved your family.”

  Chandor nodded curtly. “Come on, we’re wasting daylight. It would be ideal if I could catch the vampire sleeping.”

  Jenna led him along the narrow path for a few more minutes. The hill beside them became steeper and steeper. Suddenly she stopped. “We’re here.”

  Chandor looked around but couldn’t see anything except for an overgrown cliff face. Jenna searched until she found what looked like a gnarled root. She tugged on it to reveal a secret door in the mountainside. The opening was just big enough for a man. Beyond the entrance was a dark passage leading straight into the mountain.

  Chandor dismounted looked into Rage’s eye and stroked his neck. “I’ll be back for you later, boy.”

  Rage snorted uncomprehendingly.

  Chandor turned to Jenna, “Take him back to town if you can, otherwise just leave him here. Thank you for showing me the way in. I swear I won’t leave until the vampire is destroyed.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Pride before the Fall

  Chandor’s Holy Symbol cast bright light ahead of him as the tunnel sloped upwards into the darkness. He checked his helmet was securely fastened and that the shield of the Shadow King was strapped tightly to his forearm. Then he set off.

  The passage ran arrow straight, climbing steadily. He was making good progress when, without warning, a crossbow bolt streaked out of the darkness and ricocheted off his breastplate. A moment later another flashed past his head.

  He swore, not having expected to be attacked so soon. “For Otec!” he yelled as he rushed forward, the Shadow King’s shield held in front of him. It was nerve wracking to run towards unknown enemies but he backed himself to deal with whatever he found.

  Over the noise his armour made as he ran, he could just hear crossbows being reloaded. Relief swept through him when his lights illuminated a zombie and four skeletons standing behind a chest high wall.

  Continuing his headlong run, he pointed at them with the Silver Sceptre, “Perish in the light of Notomok!”

  Instantly, the skeletons and zombie crumbled to dust. Chandor kept running and when he reached the wall, hauled himself up. He rolled and dropped over the other side ready for battle. Luckily there were only piles of dust, empty armour, and dropped weapons.

  The skeletons and zombie had been armed with halberds, and Chandor frowned as he realised how hard it would have been to fight them. They would have had the protection of the wall while he would have had to clamber over it awkwardly to get to them. He hoped the rest of the castle wasn’t as well designed.

  As he progressed, the corridor began to get narrower and narrower and the roof lower. He could hear his breathing heavily in his helm. What if it is a trap? he wondered. What if there are traps? He almost bolted as a colony of bats took flight around him and disappeared off into the darkness. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and it took all his willpower to take another step forward.

  A flash of insight made him realise that the fear was supernatural. This must be the castle’s Fear spell. Willpower held him rooted to the spot while every fibre of his being demanded that he turn and run. Chandor sank to his knees and methodically prayed for supernatural courage. “I have been justified through faith, and claim peace through Lord Notomok,” he intoned, carefully touching his forehead, shoulders and navel. “Fearing the Gods is the first step towards wisdom. I will fear nothing but the Gods.”

  His heart rate slowed. His breath normalised. He rose feeling in control once more.

  Chandor proceeded confidently down the passage until he came to a solid door. It looked like it was made of iron. Despite a thorough search he could find no handle, keyhole, or latch. He gave the door an experimental shove but it would not budge.

  Frig. A one-way door. He hooked the sceptre to his belt, and propped his shield against the wall, then put his shoulder to the door and pushed with all his might. The door didn’t move an inch.

  He took off his helm and went down on one knee. “Takatifu Roho, I know that this is a simple thing for you to do. Please open this door.” He drew the sign of the diagonally crossed swords of Takatifu Roho on the door. He remained kneeling with his head bowed and eyes shut. He listened carefully for the sound of the lock turning or some mechanism moving.

  The corridor was quiet, with just a distant drip of water and the occasional scratch of rodents moving around in the dark. While the door had not opened, the prayer had reinforced Chandor’s certainty that, whether or not he could get past the door, he was doing the will of the Gods. They would help him to get in to the castle.

  A soft scurrying sound above his head caught his attention. He looked up. He couldn’t see anything, but his mind was whirring. Perhaps…Perhaps the Gods are answering my prayer but in a different way from what I expected.

  He grinned, then called, “Rats, answer me!” Hundreds of images, feelings, smells and sounds flooded his mind, as each individual rodent sent him a picture of itself; big rats, small rats, strong rats, injured rats, hunting, dozing, building, and hiding. Chandor held onto a particular image of a cautious rat tha
t seemed small and fast, curious and alert.

  He projected a picture of the rat looking around, “What can you see?”

  Immediately he received the smell of grease and damp, and a feeling of cold. Completing the response was an image of numerous pulleys hanging in the dark with a long slender chain running through them and into a hole in the ground.

  Chandor focused on the chain and the hole, “Where does the chain lead?”

  A feeling of space swept over him, mixed with danger, food, and the image of a corridor like the one Chandor was in. The chain hung down from the roof.

  Chandor nodded to himself and thought for a moment before sending powerful image to all the rats, of hundreds of rats climbing onto the chain, overlaying the picture with a sense of urgency and safety, “Go now, onto the chain!”

  He was rewarded by the sound of movement from above and on the other side of the door. It wasn’t long before the bottom of the door started to swing toward him, opening upwards on unseen hinges in the ceiling. Yes! I’m in! He grabbed his helm and shield with one hand and the bottom edge of the door with the other, and lifted until it was over his head, then ducked into the newly revealed passage.

  “That’s all, thanks,” he murmured as he past the writhing ball of rodents hanging on the chain. He sent a final image of satisfaction like a full belly. The rats started to jump off the chain and disappear in every direction, and the chain rattled back up to leave just a short length with a handle exposed as the door swung shut. When they were all gone, Chandor pushed the door experimentally, but it wouldn’t budge. There must be a locking mechanism somewhere. A gentle pull on the chain started the door swinging open again and he nodded in appreciation at its perfect counterbalance. With a shrug, he resettled his helmet and shield, before turning and heading on down the corridor.

  A couple of hundred yards further on, he paused as something caught the edge of his light. Cautiously, Chandor moved forward and saw that a barred iron door blocked his way. It was like the door of a jail cell. As he moved forward, he could see through the bars. The room beyond had the same chest high fortification barricading the centre of the room as the one the undead had occupied.

  He shook his head at the cleverness of the design. While he tried to get through the locked door, he would be an easy target for enemies who could fire at him from behind the protection of the wall. He could only pray there were more undead guards.

  He edged closer to the door, moving more and more slowly. Suddenly, he rushed forward, using his shield as a battering ram in the hope that he could smash his way through before his opponents were ready. He collided heavily with the door. It rattled but held firm. Animal screams from in the room made him look up in time to see a horde of goblins leap up, their dirty dog like teeth bared in hatred.

  They hurled a barrage of light spears and javelins at him and he ducked behind the Shadow King’s shield. Some flew wide, some clattered off the bars in front of him and a couple glanced off his plate mail, but not one touched his flesh.

  “Shadows attack!” he commanded. His shield bucked as the four dark shapes leaped out, sliding between the bars like something from a nightmare. They darted across the floor and up the wall, silently falling upon the goblins which screamed in terror. Chandor watched for a moment transfixed, then turned his attention back to the door. He grabbed the bars and shook, but the lock was secure.

  He looked up in time to see one of the larger goblins have its throat ripped out by a shadow, while the goblins’ spears passed harmlessly through his dark servants.

  “Shadows, look for keys!” Chandor yelled.

  They paused for a moment then all four shadows pounced on the largest of the goblins. It was the only one wearing armour and at five foot it was decidedly bigger than the rest. It shouted in fury as it swung its spear through them. They tussled, then one of the shadows suddenly leapt off the wall. It darted back to Chandor, handing him a ring with three large keys. Chandor tried them one at a time while the strange one-sided battle continued without him and an occasional javelin flew past.

  The lock finally clicked. He shoved open the gate, then stood undecided. The shadows were making good progress. Some goblins were dead and others had fled. Chandor wondered whether it was necessary to join the battle at all. The goblin leader took the decision away by leaping off the wall with its short spear aimed at Chandor’s head. Chandor swayed out the way, then punched the goblin viciously in the face with the leading edge of his shield. His blow broke teeth and bones, and sending the goblin flying backwards in a spray of red blood.

  A flood of goblins poured over the wall, their mottled green skins glistening in the light of his Symbol. His sceptre flowed seamlessly from a morning-to-midnight upper cut, into a two-to-eight cross-slash, which looped into a ten-to-four side-smash. His shield followed the last arc of his sceptre in a swinging haymaker, and when the leading edge had done its job, Chandor used the trailing edge to elbow the goblin behind him. The shadow beside him darted out and another goblin dropped. Up on the wall the other three shadows fell upon the last remaining goblins. The room suddenly fell silent.

  Panting, Chandor looked around. The room was strewn with corpses, the floor a sticky mess. He was drenched in blood, the head of his sceptre covered in gore. He could barely believe that once upon a time a single goblin had almost killed him.

  Beware, vampire, I am coming like the dawn. Nothing will stop me.

  Hooking the keys to his belt along with his sceptre, Chandor hauled himself over the chest high wall. He crossed to the stairs on the far side of the room. The shadows trailed at his heel like faithful hounds.

  The steps were narrow and spiralled upwards. Chandor stopped with his foot on the first stair. Just around the first bend lay a dead goblin, a crossbow bolt through its chest. He edged cautiously upwards and saw two more goblin bodies. You can’t expect mercy from an evil leader.

  “There must be more troops upstairs. Go get them,” Chandor ordered the shadows quietly. The shadows whispered away up the stairs. Chandor heard crossbows being discharged. Two bolts careened off the walls down to him. He charged upwards, shield held high and sceptre ready.

  When he saw that it was only another zombie and four more skeletons, he called out, “The kingdom of the Gods has come upon you!” and they were consumed by blue flame.

  At the top of the stairs, an open door led into a circular room. Another set of curving stairs led upwards. A closed door was set into the far wall. Apart from that the room was empty.

  Outside the urgent blast of a horn told him that his progress had been discovered.

  He crossed to the door, and peered through the keyhole. It was somehow surprising to see bright sunlight, even though he knew it was still morning. Through the tiny hole he could see a wide open courtyard, a tower, and what he presumed was the keep.

  More horns blasted, raising a cacophony of sound as he unlocked the door with the keys stolen from the goblin leader. He threw open the door. Stepping boldly out into the square, he shouted, “Here I am, come and get me if you dare!”

  Three orcs that had been standing by the main gates across the courtyard turned. They ran towards him, yelling and waving their weapons.

  “Kill them,” Chandor snarled, and the shadows leapt away.

  A zombie and four skeletons which had been guarding the doors to the massive stone keep started moving towards him. Chandor pointed his sceptre. “Be gone!” he shouted, and they crumbled to dust.

  From the corner of his eye he saw an arrow flashing towards him. He deflected it with a flick of his sceptre. He looked for its source and saw an orc guard stationed on a stone bridge that connected two towers. Four more orcs were sighting on him from the castle wall. Quickly scanning the other roof-tops, he saw two more orcs training a ballista on him. The massive spear streaked towards him faster than he believed possible. It smashed its way past his shield, through his armour and pierced his side.

  He would have screamed, but the impact had flung
him to the floor and blasted the breath from his lungs. Arrows rained down around him, and pain exploded in his calf. Chandor rolled over and tried to push himself up.

  Something big and heavy crashed onto his back. He felt a rib give way. Only his plate armour prevented him from being killed by the impact as stone exploded around him. Dazed, Chandor wondered for a moment if a huge stone statue had been pushed off the tower onto his back. Then a grey stone claw tried to rip off his head and he realised it was one of the gargoyles.

  He rolled and pushed himself painfully to his feet. He backed away from the fanged, horned and winged monstrosity. Ripping the spear from his side, he flung it to the side. He growled at the gargoyle, “I’ll sort you out as soon as I’ve dealt these archers.”

  Raising his voice, he shouted at the orcish archers on the walls, “Do you not believe that I can perform miracles? Those are not arrows in your hands, they are snakes!” Immediately the arrows in the hands of the orcs became writhing black snakes. Chandor had barely a moment to savour what he knew to be a mighty miracle before the gargoyle was on him again, clawing, biting and trying to gore him with its horns.

  Chandor fended it off with shield and sceptre. He was about to attack the gargoyle when battle cries from his left, and howls from his right, signalled the arrival of reinforcements. Fresh arrows from the undead on the walls continued to pepper the ground around him and rain down on his armour. More orcs were pouring from the barracks, led by a huge orc chief in an ornate horned helm. From the other side of the courtyard, a pack of goblins, some mounted on ferocious dire wolves, prepared to enter the fray.

  His heart sank as he saw another gargoyle take flight from a nearby tower.

  A verse from the Book of Wisdom in the Sacred Texts drifted into his mind, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” It was followed immediately by another remembered verse, as time seemed to slow down, “After the prophet became powerful, his pride led to his downfall.”