by M A Bernier
“Be my messenger.”
“The leaders will kill me when I return.” The dark figure leaned down beside the young cleric. His hand reached down and lightly grasped the cleric’s throat.
“The pain will last only for a moment, after that you will not fear your leaders.” The young cleric felt a sudden pressure as the hand tightly squeezed his neck. Even if he could have screamed his own ears would not have recognized his voice.
***
The mountain of Katanz sat upon the desert as if in defiance. Every part of it was jagged; the rocky edges were so sharp that even to lean upon them was to risk a deep gash into the skin. Scattered around the mountain were openings facing in all directions. The only practical use for the openings was watching for intruders. Scaling the mountain was to face certain death either from the jagged edges, or from the wind that could tear anything from the mountainside and cast it upon the rocky base. Surrounding the base of the mountain was equally jagged wall 600 feet high. A single entrance, breaking the otherwise solid wall, opened into the desert by way of a blood-red colored stone path. The sand storms never ceased in the deep desert of the Barren Continent. The clerics were content to remain isolated as they waited for the return of their forgotten deity. Rarely did clerics venture to the world beyond the desert. When they did it was only to search for human sacrifices. The followers of Katanz wanted to remain hidden, for now, so chose their sacrifices wisely. The followers of Katanz were careful to choose those who would not be readily missed. Those they captured were thieves, scoundrels and criminal liars. They served well as sacrifices or servants.
Two clerics dressed in blood red robes guarded the only entrance with dagger tipped staffs. One pointed and motioned to the other as they saw what appeared to be a fellow cleric carrying something large in his arms. The outer guards were never to leave the edge of the path unguarded. The two clerics at the outer wall of the temple started indignantly at the low-level guard who would dare to leave his post. They allowed the hooded figure to approach within the space their staffs could reach before ordering him to halt.
“Replacements have not been sent to relieve you.” The guard to the right of entrance stated as he leveled his staff.
“I have a message for our leaders.” The cleric carrying the large clothed object in his arms kept his head low. The guards could not see his face but recognized his voice when he spoke.
“The leaders will execute you for your disobedience.” The guard on the left also leveled his staff. A gust of wind and sand grabbed the hood of the robe and revealed the lifeless face of the body the cleric carried. The guards stepped forward and looked into its lifeless face. “Who has done this?” They demanded.
“Our new leader commands me and, will command our temple.” The robed cleric replied calmly. “He will be here in a day to bring us to the path of power.”
“Show your face apprentice.” The hooded cleric lifted his head to allow the wind to pull away his hood and reveal his face. The guards gasped when the hooded cleric looked up. In place of his eyes was the polished smoothness of black onyx. The guards moved to attack the cleric. Without speaking each guard conveyed their suspicions that this cleric was possessed by an unknown enemy. The staffs in their hands suddenly moved, as if alive and twisted themselves around their bodies pinning their arms to their sides. The cleric-guards were lifted by an invisible force. The points of their staffs somehow embedded themselves into the rocky wall leaving the guards to helplessly watch as one of their own, possessed by an unknown force, casually walk past the entrance.
The cleric leaders reveled in gluttony. All twenty of them lacked any courtesy or table manners reaching rudely past one another for food or drink. Their meals always went uninterrupted except on this day when the large metal doors to the large chamber unexpectedly opened. Catching their attention was the familiar figure of a robed cleric moving quickly and nervously to prostrate himself before his leaders.
“Please forgive my entrance.” The servant was shaking in terror as was expected for intruding upon the leader’s meal. “One of our cleric guards has been taken by a force unknown to us. He carries the body of another guard and demands an audience with you.”
“Demands?” One of the fat clerics screeched in a high pitched voice through a mouthful of food. “Bring him in so that we may teach him the error of his impertinence. He will die a slow death for such an affront upon us.”
“The master would be displeased.” A messenger entered. The leaders recognized the familiar blood red robe and his face, except his eyes were glossy black. He carried a deformed body with apparently no effort as he walked smoothly to the leaders’ half-circle table. All those eating stopped as he continued to approach the center of the table. He stopped only a few feet away and tossed the lifeless body on the table in front of the High Cleric.
“How dare you!!” The Cleric stood as food spilled over his robe. He looked upon the body before him, his face changed from anger to revulsion and back to anger. The other clerics at the table stood and moved to the center. The high-pitched voice cleric screeched for the guards standing motionless nearby. “Kill this intruder and leave his body in the deepest part of the desert!” Several guards moved forward however, they were stopped when their staffs twisted around their bodies like snakes immobilizing their arms and legs. Unable to stand the guards fell to the floor.
The High Cleric grabbed his staff behind him. It started to glow a soft red. He thrust it at the heart of the apprentice however the point of the staff never reached its target.
Odien, his given name by the new master, watched the faces of the cleric leaders glared at him. It was easy to disable the guards, and it would be nearly as easy to turn the power of the High Cleric back upon him. Odien reached with his hand and grabbed the tip of the staff stopping it inches from his chest. Odien felt the power of the High Cleric in the staff meant to kill him. The other clerics witnessed the horrified look on the face of the High Cleric as the red glow moved from the staff and enveloped him. The loud-mouthed leader of the clerics clutched at his chest, then collapsed to the stone floor writhing in agony, after half a minute he stopped moving. The cleric leader was dead and his face twisted with a horrified look of fear. The other cleric of the council turned and looked at Odien as the staff he had grabbed turned to ashes in his hand. Their faces displayed a cascade of emotions, fear, worry, and the need for revenge, but none of them were acting, for the moment.
“The new master of our order will be here in one day. I have delivered his message and will await him at the entrance to the temple.”
“Whoever you are,” another fat cleric said, “your name will be stricken from the stone of power.”
“That name is no more and our new master has named me Odien. I am sure you know what the means.” Odien turned and left the main chambers. Not all the clerics knew the lore of other lands. They turned to the cleric who demanded his name and begged him for enlightenment.
“It means obedient one,” the cleric grabbed his staff and stormed passed the others as he spoke. “That name is only given by a creature of the underworld to its most loyal servant. Come my brothers, we must summon our power to send this creature back to the depths from where it crawled. No demon rival of Katanz will take this temple and defile its purity.” Zaren stopped and turned his brothers appeared hesitant to follow him. He glared at them in anger and disappointment. “Ketchin may have been High Cleric, but he was only one cleric. We are many, and with the apprentices and witches this usurper will be taught a lesson he will not soon forget.” The hesitant leaders gathered their staffs and reluctantly follow Zaren and the others to the meditation chambers to gather their strength.
Jyn-Taa watched as his obedient servant Odien picked up the dried out husk of the cleric he had stolen the soul from. Once Odien had walked some distance Jyn-Taa sat at the beginning of the path to meditate before he journeyed to the temple-mountain. Feeding upon the soul satisfied the hunger he felt; it also delayed the
premature aging of his temporary body.
***
A half day had passed while Jyn-Taa stood silent in the desert waiting for the right time to follow his new apprentice. A momentary pain in his head caused him to collapse to his knees. It was a reminder of his obligation to the demon lords. He would have to choose a vessel for their messenger to him. Jyn-Taa’s painful reminder would only subside once the demon lords could communicate with him through this messenger. Jyn-Taa first chose his own messenger and sent him ahead to prepare his arrival. Odien was given a second task not to be revealed to the clerics. He could choose the death of one and the cleric’s life he took would be the messenger Jyn-Taa would choose for the demon lords. The pain in his head subsided; Jyn-Taa stretched forth his hand in the direction of the mountain and closed his eyes. He waited for the moment when death took the body of the cleric Odien had chosen and summoned it.
***
Zaren stood with his clerics just inside the main entrance of the mountain. The area was large enough to contain the several hundred clerics and witches who now stood with him. Odien stood quietly and still at the entrance of the mountain ring watching them. Zaren instructed the order to ignore Odien or any request he made. Odien made no requests and no demands while he stood silently. The wind and sand continued unabated throughout the day while they waited. Near the end Odien turned and faced the entrance, he kneeled and bowed his head low as two figures became visible in the distance. Both figures wore robes, their hoods hiding their faces, and their arms hidden with the sleeves of the robes. The figure on the right stood straight in his black robe while the figure on the left wore the same blood red robe of the order, but walked hunched over taking uneven steps. The black robed figure walked until he reached the bowing form of Odien. He placed his hand upon his servants robed head, “Stand my obedient servant, you have done well.” Odien rose and stood behind the robed figure but still held kept his head bent low. The black robed figure kept his eye on Zaren as he spoke to his servant. “Fear not to look them in the eye in my presence, they will be your servants.” Odien raised his head at his master’s command.
“Return to the enemy and leave this sacred temple!” Zaren demanded. All of the clerics' staffs began to glow red. The witches with him uncovered their burnt and crippled left hands. The deformity was a sign of their obedience to the worship of Katanz and their power. The witches' hands began to glow red as they pointed to the trio at the entrance. A sharp cracking noise like a mountain splitting filled the air as a red bolt of lightning came from the clerics and witches and encased the trio at the gate. The sound dissipated, and the clerics and witches viewed with satisfaction as the trio now stood encased within an orb of crackling red energy.
“Give your masters a message.” Zaren said as he stepped closer to the captured intruders. “This place is protected by Katanz and will not be defiled.” Zaren smiled as he watched the red globe began to diminish in size. The black robed figure moved one step to the edge of the orb and placed his hand upon it. Zaren’s heart beat excitedly faster anticipating the pain and agony the defiler would feel, instead, nothing happened, at least at first. From his hand a black mist spread outward. The red sphere turned black then exploded outward sending every cleric and witch falling to the ground.
Zaren rolled on his side and grabbed his staff as he raced to stand. The others were following his actions and preparing to fight back. As he stood he saw the robed figure stretch forth his hand, Zaren’s staff, and every other staff burst into flame. The clerics watched as their staffs turned to ash. “Stop him!” Zaren screamed at the witches. They stepped forward raising their charred hands ready to invoke a counter attack. Every witch’s hand burst in flame. They cried out as they ran in every direction. No sand, water, or covering of cloth abated the terrible agony of the flames that the witches felt.
Zeran watched as the witch’s hands burned, he watched as one by one they ran out the entrance and into the desert in hopes that distance would weaken the power that burned them. He looked around as most of the clerics dropped to their knees and lowered their heads to the ground in the direction of the black robed figure. Zeran and about a hundred other clerics stood their ground determined that the enemy would not take them without a fight. The robed figure stepped closer to Zeran as he and his brothers gathered together. He spoke to them before they could utter a defiant last word.
“You cannot see the path. Perhaps fire will burn away the false path that your eyes have laid before you.” Several clerics began to screaming in agony. Zeran turned to see their eyes burst into continuous flames. One by one Zeran watched as the clerics who stood with him tried to beat the burning flames from their eyes. A few moments later their screams faded in his ears smothered by his own screams of agony, and then he too ran with the other clerics into the desert.
Jyn-Taa surveyed the clerics as they remained prostrate before him. “I sense doubt in some of you. Some of you feel your order will be saved by your high cleric. Look upon the servant I command!” Jyn-Taa raised his voice then removed the hood from the hunched over figure beside him. The clerics before him looked upon the creature and beheld the face of the High Cleric as he stood with his mouth half open, his eyes vacant and his skin pale like death. More of the clerics ran into the desert while other followers continued to emerge from the mountain. The clerics already witness to the horrible events outside the temple forced the new arrivals to a kneeling position. More apprentices, clerics and witches whose hands did not yet bore the mark of their obedience emerged and bowed before Jyn-Taa.
***
The chamber of the High Cleric and his council disgusted Jyn-Taa. The chamber reeked of the stench of human odors. The amount of food present for the gluttonous former leaders, too much for them to have eaten by themselves, covered the chamber tables. He stood with Odien and his messenger to the demons at the chamber entrance. Before entering he summoned a black fire. Everything but the stone chairs and tables was consumed by it. Jyn-Taa enter the empty chamber once the flames of black flickered away leaving it clean. He surveyed the chamber with satisfaction. The blood stains from the floor and walls were gone. The walls shone with the brilliance of their gold coloring. He stood with Odien behind the crescent table with his messenger.
“You must kneel in the presence of the masters who will be here shortly, never look upon them or speak to them.” Odien knelt on the floor behind the table. He heard the floor erupt with the sound of rock and stone. His heard his master walk around the table to the center of the chamber where the sounds had come from. The possessed cleric followed Jyn-Taa. A rumbling noise filled the chamber, a wave of nausea almost overtook Odien and a cold presence filled his heart and soul, but he did not look upon his master. He heard the sounds of words he did not recognize from behind him. In moments the coldness left him and Jyn-Taa commanded him to stand. Odien saw four pillars in the center of the chamber stretching forth from floor to ceiling. “Come with me Odien we have much work to do.” Jyn-Taa motioned for him to follow as he departed the main entrance of the chamber. Odien looked around, he had once feared this chamber, but his fear no longer haunted him.
CHAPTER TWO
Knowledge without Answers
Ambassador Ardant Brand stepped into his personal shuttle, the shape always reminded him of a writing utensil or pointer, a design that had never been his favorite, but it served its purpose. He seated himself and activated the automatic departure controls. The colony ship he commanded had returned to Earth five years ago, since then the ship had separated into several smaller sections. Some of them orbited the Earth, the moon, while others orbited planets in nearby solar systems. After the defeat of an ancient enemy that had threatened Earth, his council bestowed upon him the rank of Ambassador. Being the captain of a colony ship, housing thousands of people, had been far less challenging than opening up negotiations with the people of the Barren Continent. Technology was not allowed there and it did not matter since the magnetic flow of the planet prevented a
ll machines from working on that particular continent. The people of the continent were less than desirable, pirates, thieves and swindlers. Ardant’s ship slipped smoothly into the atmosphere and began its approach to the east shores of the green continent. He rarely had time off and wanted to see a friend.
***
The midday sun shone brightly. The breeze caused the sheets and clothing to gently sway. As she draped the last article of wet clothing over the rope line a tug on her own robe drew her attention.
“Mother!” The four-year-old little boy was beside himself with excitement as he pointed to the sky. “It’s Uncle Ardant.” Cadan said with excitement. “Can I go greet him, pleeeaase?”
Sometimes Cadan’s soft blue eyes threatened to melt Alys. “Of course you can.” The little blond haired boy ran as fast as his small legs could carry him to the end of the small meadow beside his home. He stood at a safe distance as the long black ship settled silently onto the ground. The side of the ship opened. An older man, dressed in boots, pants, and a long sleeve shirt emerged. He prepared for Cadan’s leap and leaned down as the little boy jumped up to embrace him for a hug.
“Uncle Ardant!” The boy said excitedly. “Did you bring me a surprise?”
“Cadan!” Alys spoke sternly as she caught up to her son. “Mind your manners; your Uncle Ardant does not always have to bring you something.” The boy pouted. Ardant was not really the boy’s uncle, but Cadan had insisted he should be, so he accepted the role. Ardant reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a small piece of paper. The boy reached for it
“I will give you these treats,” Ardant paused, “after your dinner young man.” Ardant closed his hand quickly and smiled at the boy.
“You have been talking to mother haven’t you?” Cadan replied as he folded his arms.
“Run along and play Cadan.” Alys scooted the boy away. “It’s good to see you again.” Ardant glanced at the hanging laundry and Alys did not miss it. “If you’re going to tell me again I could use some of your technology, or magic, to dry them don’t bother. I love the smell of clothing that’s been hung outside to dry.”