Dark Priest

by Dale Vice

  Chandor felt emotionally drained. He knew he had used the last of his spiritual strength. He did not have the energy to perform any more miracles.

  I’ll just have to do it the hard way.

  He made his way to the altar. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him as the smell of burnt flesh and troglodyte assailed his nostrils. Past the altar on the left was an arched door. He knew instinctively that it led down to the crypt and that the vampire would be there. He tried the handle. The door was locked. He looked around but couldn’t see a key. Enraged, he threw his shoulder against the door. He charged it again, hammering at it with both shield and sceptre, but it didn’t budge. He glared at it, wishing he had more brute strength.

  He had just turned to go and find something with which to either prize open or bash down the door, when he remembered the potion he had taken off the orcs. Impatiently, he pulled the stopper and drained the contents. It burned going down, and fire spread throughout his body. He wondered for a horrifying moment if he had just poisoned himself. Then the pain was replaced by a flood of energy and he thought, It’s done something magical. I feel strong! He took a few paces back and charged the door once more with his shoulder. With a crack, the lock gave way. He almost tumbled down the stairs that led to the underground mausoleum.

  “For blood’s sake, you could have just knocked,” came the heavily accented voice of the baron.

  “Be gone, in the Holy Name of Notomok!” Chandor shouted. He pointed hopefully with the Silver Sceptre but did not really expect any result.

  The vampire just shook its head. “Trust me, if you had been powerful enough to destroy my general, I would not be waiting here for you.”

  The vampire was seated at a table, a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of him. He had a lean face, pale from lack of sunlight. His hair was thick and black. He was dressed in a silk sleeping tunic but had pulled on boots and a sword belt. An elegant gold-hilted rapier hung at his side. The vampire’s pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement, “Come, Dark Priest, have a drink.”

  “Stuff you.”

  “We have a lot in common, Sir Chandor, and I’m sure you want to know about your parents.”

  “I know enough,” Chandor growled, advancing with his shield up and sceptre ready. He looked around for another way to destroy the vampire without letting it touch him. Running water, sunlight, stakes through the heart.

  “Be reasonable. We’re at an impasse. I can’t leap across this gap and rip your life out because you’re still protected by your miraculous sphere, and you can’t come any closer because then you’ll break your barrier and be vulnerable. So why don’t you listen for a while.”

  The baron’s voice was rich and persuasive. Chandor knew that he could not afford to lose the safety of holy barrier. He stopped.

  “What are you living for?” asked Nuan, flashing an incisor filled smiled.

  “Revenge!”

  Nuan shrugged, “That’s not much of a life, Chandor. Even I can see that. You need to live a little. Have you ever been drunk? Had sex? Enjoyed the thrill of power?”

  Chandor looked around for something he could use as a ranged weapon; he had no idea how he could actually kill the vampire, now that he had found it.

  “My emperor knows how to reward his loyal subjects. Who is going to reward you? Fistoria? The church? The Gods? You owe none of them anything! They have all let you down. They don’t care about you. But we could use someone like you. You could be a count, a duke even.”

  Waves of charisma washed over Chandor and he had to fight not to nod in agreement. He shook himself vigorously, “Damn you, Nuan. You killed my parents, and I’m here to destroy you, not join you!”

  The vampire rose, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am about your family. I wish, I wish… That bloody Hengel.”

  The name sent a sliver of ice into Chandor’s heart. “What did you say?”

  Nuan shrugged, “There is a corrupt priest called Hengel. Powerful and persuasive, he has risen high in the Church of Mankind. He used me, like he has used so many people. He feared your father because he was a good man. Hengel tricked me into fearing your father too. I only realised later that Hengel had set both of us up.”

  Chandor felt the cold spreading across his soul as Nuan continued, “Fistoria is corrupt to the core. King Ironfist and his leaders, the church, the magicians; All they care about is personal power and wealth. They’ll stop at nothing to get it and keep it. That’s why we’re working to overthrow them.”

  “Liar! You’re a vampire! What do you know of doing good? You sold your soul for eternal life.”

  Nuan shook his head. “You don’t understand, Chandor. I didn’t choose this. I was dragged back from death and cursed to never see the light again. Now I’m just trying to do the best I can with what I’ve got, same as you.”

  The revelation stunned Chandor but he clung stubbornly to his belief. “We’re not the same.”

  The vampire smiled sadly. “We are, Chandor. You are using your anger to do good. Look at yourself! You’re not Guardian of Mankind. Your soul knows the church is rotten, so you’ve gone another way. You are the Dark Priest. You have shadows that obey you, and wolves that fight for you.” Nuan looked intently into Chandor’s eyes, “The gods have brought us together, Chandor. Join me, we would make a powerful team.”

  “Never.”

  “We could bring down the church, especially Hengel. He’s the one you should really be getting revenge on.”

  “I’ll destroy him next!” Chandor swore.

  “You’re not strong enough. But together, we could take him down.”

  Chandor’s mind whirled. Nuan’s argument had a ring of truth that resonated. It confirmed a suspicion that had been festering for some time. His travels across the Fistorian Duchy of Vander had certainly highlighted elements of corruption.

  “Come, Chandor. Join me, and together we can root out all the evil. My emperor and I will help.”

  Something tugged at Chandor’s heart. A seed of doubt prompted him to ask, “What about Guide Jurgen? They call him ‘The Wise’ but he seems more sly to me.”

  The baron nodded, “He’s the worst. He cunningly hides his evil under a veneer of holiness.”

  With those words, Chandor realised he could trust nothing that came from the vampire’s mouth. Gathering his courage, he leapt forward shouting “Liar!”

  He knew it was suicidal. Fighting a vampire in hand-to-hand combat was futile, but he could see no other way. I vowed to the Gods to kill Nuan or die trying. Either way, this is the end. He brought the Shadow King’s shield and the Silver Sceptre down together in a powerful overhead blow, but Nuan had already gone and Chandor only smashed his chair to pieces.

  He looked up to see Nuan roll smoothly to his feet, drawing his slender sword as he did so. “I am so glad, Dark Priest,” grinned Nuan, baring his fangs. “Once I’ve killed you I will raise you as a vampire under my control and you will serve me forever!”

  The vampire leapt forward. The slender sword flashed so fast that Chandor had no time to react. The rapier’s point drove into the gap at Chandor’s wrist. Blood flowed up the sword and disappeared under Nuan’s fingernails.

  Chandor felt his strength drain and his faith waver. Pain, fear and despair washed over him. His soul felt as if it had been cut, but he pushed the feeling down and attacked again. His roundhouse, morning-to-midnight, two-till-eight, and reverse elbow all sailed harmlessly past the supernaturally fast vampire. Nuan weaved, gracefully avoiding each blow. He suddenly lunged. The rapier flashed past Chandor’s shield but was deflected by the plates on Chandor’s upper arm.

  It took all Chandor’s experience and remaining faith to keep calm as a perfect jab with his sceptre was smoothly deflected by Nuan’s sword. Chandor just swayed out of the way of the baron’s lightning fast riposte. He feinted right. As Nuan dodged left, Chandor drove a straight punch to the vampire’s head. It connected well, and Chandor felt a surge of hope.

  Nuan leapt ba
ck, blood pouring down his face. Chandor pressed his advantage with a flurry of blows with sceptre and shield, but Nuan danced backwards, grinning as his face started to heal. “You’re no match for me, boy. I heal faster and hit harder than you ever will. I’m going to kill you like I killed your parents.”

  Chandor leapt into the air to bring both weapons together in the Cymbals move, but Nuan was too quick. He thrust his sword into Chandor’s left armpit. Blood, strength and spirit were dragged from his body once more. Chandor fell to the floor, coughing blood, his shield arm hanging limply by his side. As Nuan rushed forward to deliver the final thrust, Chandor dropped his sceptre and grabbed his Holy Symbol. He thrust it out in front of him. “Otec, protect me!”

  Nuan leapt back, a grimace of pain crossing his face. “You coward! Hiding behind that trinket. Put it down and face me like a man!”

  Chandor pushed himself weakly to his feet, blood burbling in his chest. He thrust the Holy Symbol out in front of him, and staggered forward. He watched in amazement as Nuan retreated like a man from a blazing torch. Using the Symbol, Chandor herded Nuan up the stairs and forced him into the main church.

  Pain and despair threatened to overwhelm him as the climb up the stairs made spots flash in front of his eyes.

  In the main church hope surged as he saw the sunlight at the open doorway. He pushed himself forward once more, driving Nuan ahead of him.

  Nuan looked back over his shoulder and saw the sunlight beyond the doors. He laughed. “You can’t seriously think you can just herd me, a vampire, into the sunlight! You fool! Tonight, as soon as the sun goes down, I’ll take back the castle and my minions will return to finish you. You have one day – I suggest you use it to run!”

  Nuan’s features contorted. Lifting his arms, his flesh seemed to merge with his cloak as it became huge leathery wings. His body melted, and with a leap Nuan took to the air as a giant bat. Chandor’s heart sank as he watched the bat swooping between the rafters of the vaulted church ceiling far above him.

  “You can’t fly all day,” Chandor croaked to the taste of blood.

  As if to spite him, Nuan flew up into the shadows of the rafters and settled, hanging comfortably upside down while Chandor watched impotently from the ground.

  Raging internally, Chandor knelt in the middle of the foreign church and prayed to the Gods of Mankind.

  “Otec, Notomok, Takatifu Roho, help me. I am spent. I can do no more. If it is your will, show me how to defeat this evil.” He looked up at his family’s murderer and rage enveloped him. “I’ll destroy you yet, you bastard!”

  Anger flooded his mind and he grinned, unsure of whether the idea in his head was from the Gods or elsewhere, and not caring.

  He staggered across the church collecting every flammable item he could find. He dragged them to the centre of the church, gritting his teeth against the pain from his wounds. Wall hangings, candles, oil, wooden pews, cushions, and books all went onto the pile. High above him, he could see Nuan’s bat ears twitching as he followed Chandor’s movements.

  Chandor knew he had only moments to implement his plan. He ducked out of sight behind a stone pillar and flung a bookshelf to the ground with a crash, the noise covering his deception. The darkness gathered around him for a moment. Then he was dragging the heavy wooden shelves along the ground to the central pile to the tortured sound of iron nails on stone.

  He shouted, blood spraying from his mouth, “You burned my family, I’ll burn this place to the ground, and you with it!”

  Chandor continued to drag and throw items into the pile in the centre of the church. Nuan watched him impassively from the roof, and Chandor grimaced. He could see as well as the vampire that it was unlikely that his fire would destroy the entire church.

  Just as well that’s not the plan.

  Suddenly, the roof above Nuan opened and sunlight poured in, falling directly on the vampire. The bat screeched, smoke rising off its black fur as it tumbled downwards, transforming back into human form as it fell. Nuan crashed into the ground and screamed out in pain.

  His clothes were burnt and his skin raw. One leg had been burned away completely.

  The vampire’s fall had taken him out of the direct line of the sun, which fell in long beams into the church. Immediately, Chandor was by Nuan’s side. His Holy Symbol held out boldly. He pushed the vampire towards the patch of sunlight.

  The undead baron screamed again, his face a mask of terror.

  Above them, Chandor’s shadows continued to rip tiles from the roof, and more and more sunlight poured in.

  Chandor advanced unrelentingly. Nuan fell back, dragging himself away from the burning of the Holy Symbol.

  “Stop! Please!” Nuan glanced back with horror at the glowing pool of light that shone just yards away. “Chandor, don’t. Please, I beg you.”

  Chandor laughed, “You didn’t spare my family.”

  “What of forgiveness?” Nuan panted.

  Chandor paused. “Stuff forgiveness.”

  Nuan was on the threshold of the circle of sunlight created by the shadows’ hole. Chandor’s next step would push Nuan into the light, where the burning rays of the sun would finish the job.

  “Wait, Chandor, think!” pleaded Nuan. “If you do this, you’ll be as evil as me.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” Chandor growled.

  “You are just like me!” Nuan screeched. “You have murdered innocent goblins, orcs, troglodytes.”

  “They are evil!”

  “Not in their eyes. Not to their families. They have mothers, children. You slaughtered them because they were in your way. And those priests in Fistoria, and my soldiers, you killed them without a thought! How are you different to me?”

  Chandor halted. A sliver of doubt entered his mind.

  One more step and the vampire will be destroyed.

  “Take the higher path,” urged Nuan. “Redeem yourself before it is too late. If you destroy me, my soul will be condemned to eternal suffering. How can that be an act of good? Give me a chance to repent, please! Isn’t that what the Gods teach, what Guide Jurgen would want?”

  Chandor’s hand trembled. He glared down at Nuan, helpless at his feet.

  “One act of mercy,” continued the vampire, “and your course will be different. This is the moment, Chandor, when you make your choice. You can be holy, or become a priest of darkness. One more step and you will forever be on the path of true evil.”

  Truly evil. Is this what Jurgen and Anelle were warning me about. Is this what they foresaw? Is this the moment when I become The Painbinder?

  Chandor looked down into the vampire’s pale blue eyes.

  Revenge or forgiveness?

  “If this makes me evil,” Chandor snarled, “If this is how I become The Painbinder.” He took a deep breath as he made his final choice, “I. Don’t. Care!”

  Thrusting the Holy Symbol ahead of him, Chandor took a step forward. Nuan fought for a moment, but could not remain in the presence of the Symbol’s holiness. He scrabbled backwards, into the pool of light. A sunbeam fell on his face and he started to scream. His pale skin blistered, then began to burn.

  Nuan screeched. His mouth opened wide to reveal the terrible white canines. Smoke rose from his clothes. Suddenly, his whole body burst into flames, engulfing him as if he had been doused in oil. Worse than any living scream, the sound that was torn from his throat was a soul scream – the sound of a spirit going to hell.

  Chandor looked on mercilessly. The flames grew and grew. Then just as suddenly, they disappeared. All that remained was a pile of black dust.

  Chandor could not stop the hysterical laughter bubbling up. “I am done! Praise the Gods! My quest is complete!”

  CHAPTER 32

  No Peace for the Wicked

  Chandor staggered to the keep, leaving a trail of blood from his wounds. The doors stood open and banging in the cold wind. The throne room was as he had left it.

  He was too emotionally exhausted to miraculously
heal himself. Instead, he dragged himself to the richly furnished living quarters on the first floor where he clumsily bandaged his wounds. He saw the remains of a meal on a silver plate and devoured the remaining fruit, bread, and chicken.

  He stumbled through a dressing room filled with expensive clothes to a bedroom. A large comfortable-looking four-poster bed beckoned. He stripped off the last of his armour and collapsed onto the soft mattress.

  It felt like it was just moments later that he awoke, screaming with terror. The smile in his nightmare had been pure evil. It was the smile of a vampire, with inch long canines. When he looked into the face, it had been his own.

  He immediately felt his teeth with his tongue. Nothing. He flopped back in relief.

  He tried to sit up but the wounds in his wrist and armpit set lances of agony through his body. His body was a mass of bruises and cuts. He knew that several bones were broken. Even as he groaned in pain, he knew he was stronger spiritually than he had ever been. He prayed. A huge amount of spiritual strength left him, but all his wounds were instantly healed. Only scars remained to remind him of his battle.

  After eating and washing, he took clean underclothes from the dressing room cupboards and donned his full armour. He could not assume that the castle was safe just because the vampire was destroyed.

  He sat on the side of the bed to meditate. He closed his eyes and stilled his mind. He was disappointed to find that his revenge had not brought him peace. Instead of elation at having destroyed the vampire, he felt only numbness. His anger surged and he was reminded of his oaths to the Gods: I will hunt the undead all the days of my life! I will destroy them all, or die trying. By Otec, in the Name of Notomok, by the Power of Takatifu Roho, I swear this. He thought bitterly of the warrant for his arrest, and how the church and the king’s army had tried to stop him. May the Gods have mercy if anyone tries to prevent me fulfilling my quest. His thoughts turned to Anelle. Grief and guilt assailed him but he channelled the feelings to useful anger. I only did what was necessary. She had no right to forgiveness. I will not feel guilty.