“I thought you clerics could heal anything,” Pacian inquired. Aiden had wanted him to be discreet, but the situation had obviously gone far past that point.
“Unfortunately, the patriarch is neither diseased nor wounded,” Ashwyn replied, attempting to placate the enraged knight. “His affliction is that which affects so many of his age - a gradual erosion of his faculties beyond our ability to treat. We do what we can for such people. Often we can only care for them until the end comes. This case, however, is different.”
“How so?” Aiden asked.
“For the past few months, Corvyn’s mind has been slipping,” Ashwyn continued. “He would often forget where he was, and even believe that he was reliving some of his youth. Lately though, he began speaking of his ancestor, Sir Marcus Elward, with remarkable single-mindedness.”
“I’m not familiar with the name, is it relevant?” Pacian inquired.
“Sir Marcus was squire to Alaric Roebec, the first King of Aielund,” Ashwyn explained. “He went on to become an important ally of the King, and the first knight of the realm. Later in his life he was blessed by the angel Kylaris with a sword of light, Solas Aingeal, which he used to battle a demon that had been loosed upon the world by an insane sorcerer, at the cost of his life.”
“Oh that Sir Marcus,” Pacian exclaimed facetiously. “Yes, who hasn’t heard that story and been influenced by it. Inspiring stuff.”
“What has this to do with Corvyn?” Sir William asked, ignoring Pacian. Ashwyn exchanged a hesitant glance with Olivia before responding.
“It is the Patriarch’s twisted belief that King Alaric Roebec is returning from a long journey, and that he will want to see his old friend Sir Marcus once more,” the priest said in a low voice. “He has locked himself into the mausoleum beneath the cathedral to… ‘talk’ with his dead ancestor.”
“And you’re allowing this to continue?” Sir William exclaimed loudly, garnering the attention of everyone in the cathedral.
“We will get to him in due course, Sir Knight,” Ashwyn informed him curtly. “A missive has been sent to the Holy Inquisitors, who will send a team to go in and retrieve Corvyn. And with respect, sir, this is an internal matter that we will handle ourselves.” Sir William pushed the priests aside and tried to open the door via a heavy metal handle. It was indeed locked, and it appeared the knight was about to consider breaking down the door when Pacian put a hand on his shoulder.
“Before you do yourself an injury trying to smash through a stone door, allow me to try,” he advised. Sir William stepped aside, keeping the priests at bay with an outstretched hand while Pacian retrieved some small metal tools from a pouch on his belt, then set to work on the lock. A satisfying ‘click’ could be heard from the mechanism shortly thereafter, and he quickly operated the door handle and pulled the heavy door open.
“I was considering retaining the services of a locksmith to get that open,” the knight breathed with surprise, “but I see you are more than qualified for such tasks.”
“Yes, because as it happens, I am a professional locksmith,” Pacian replied smoothly. “It’s what I do. I… smith locks.”
“What is going on over here?” Nellise asked as she and Valennia approached, peering over Aiden’s shoulder. He gave her a quick rundown on what had transpired.
“Respectfully, Archon,” Nellise said to the priest, “the situation should never have been allowed to progress this far. The poor man obviously needs constant care.”
“I don’t disagree with you Nellise, yet he proved to be quite a handful to deal with,” Ashwyn replied, his hands fidgeting nervously, a giveaway that not everything was as they were being told.
“We can assign blame for this fiasco later,” Sir William interrupted. “I shall go into the mausoleum and retrieve the old chap before he hurts himself.”
“You might want to hold off on that a moment,” Aiden suggested. “The Archon has something important he’s not telling us.” Ashwyn’s calm exterior gave way to his inner feelings, as his face turned drained of colour.
“What’s do you mean?” Sir William asked gruffly, impatient to be off.
“Close that door at once,” the Archon demanded in a shaking voice.
“Not until Corvyn has been safely retrieved,” the knight replied obstinately.
“You don’t understand. On his way to the mausoleum last night, the patriarch stopped by a secure room and retrieved one of the relics kept under lock and key.”
“Just a moment, Sir William,” Nellise interrupted. “Archon, are you referring to the Vault of Damnation?”
“Of course I am,” the priest replied curtly. “The patriarch, in his deranged state, has taken one of the forbidden tomes from the vault and locked himself into the mausoleum.”
“Stop talking in riddles!” Valennia blurted suddenly. “Speak plainly, so that we might understand what in the hell you are talking about.”
“The patriarch has taken the Tome of Reanimation,” the Archon spoke quietly, “a vile work containing unspeakable rites, created by the necromancer Aeldrith nearly two hundred years ago. His intent was to raise the dead from their eternal rest and create an army with which to destroy the realm.”
“That is only a legend,” Nellise protested. “There is no coming back from the dead, save for the intervention of God.”
“From what our scholars have deduced, whatever is brought across from the other side is not the same soul that once resided in a given body,” the Archon explained. “This tome merely substitutes another entity to use the remains as a sort of unholy puppet – the undead. The Church confiscated the tome after vanquishing the necromancer, and it has lain here in the vault ever since. Given the patriarch’s mental state, I fear the worst.”
“I may regret asking this,” Aiden inquired, licking his lips in consternation, “but what exactly do you mean by ‘the worst’?”
“He has, in that tome, the power to reanimate every one of the dead priests in the mausoleum to do his bidding, as well as the body of Sir Marcus himself,” the priest said, each word heavy with conviction. The entire group turned to look deep into the darkness of the mausoleum and Aiden’s imagination started to run wild.
“We have to stop him, immediately,” Nellise breathed. “I’ll get my equipment.”
“Nellise, wait!” Ashwyn said, snapping out of his horrified trance. “It is not your place to fight, even against horrors such as this. Your companions are more than capable of meeting this challenge - you merely need to support them, as is our place.” Nellise stopped walking and turned to face the Archon, a look of incredulity on her features.
“I will not ask others to risk what I would not face myself,” she stated with intensity. “Too many have died because of our pacifist ways, Archon, and I will not stand by while my companions walk into danger.”
“This is not our way,” the priest warned darkly. “You risk expulsion from our chapter with your actions, Nellise. Think of our history - think of why we chose to step back from military actions. Do not throw away a promising future because of your recent trauma, Sarient. Have faith that God will put the right people in the right place at the right time.”
“I am where I need to be, and I will do what my conscience demands,” the young cleric said, appearing resolute and calm in the face of adversity. “The Church is responsible for what is about to take place. We need to ensure the safety of the community - that is all that matters.” With that, she strode purposefully out of the front doors of the church, to the astonishment of everyone within the cathedral.
Chapter Nine
“Everyone, please remain calm!” Archon Price called to the dozens of people milling around inside the cathedral who’d overheard most of what Aiden and the others had been discussing. Half a dozen acolytes arrived to help calm the crowd, and slowly began herding them towards the entrance.
While that was happening, Sir William had drawn his sword and shield and was limbering up in preparation for a potentia
l fight. Valennia had drawn her weapon as well, a lochaber axe with a shortened handle that did little to diminish its impressive size. The demeanour of the two warriors was one of cool detachment, in stark contrast to Aiden and Pacian’s barely controlled fear.
Taking out the scrolls he’d ‘liberated’ from Alan Leonson’s drawers, Aiden flipped through them to see what sort of incantations he’d stolen. A quick study of the runes indicated that the first one he looked at was basically the same as the spectral armour he’d used before, back in the akoran cave.
One of them was imbued with powerful runes of destruction, which would summon lightning in the same way that he’d seen enemy wizards do in the recent past. This was the sort of thing he was hoping to eventually find, for while his swordsmanship was barely adequate, he needed an edge.
“Perhaps I should close the door while we wait,” Pacian mused, catching Aiden’s attention. It wasn’t what he’d said though, it was how he said it - the blond rogue was deathly afraid of something, and looking at the darkness beyond the door, Aiden could see what it was.
A pair of pale blue eyes was looking out at them, glowing faintly in the dark. Light from the cathedral reflected off them, which stared without blinking and contained no life. The echo of shuffling sounds could be heard from the mausoleum, and it was clear that their worst fears had come to pass - the patriarch had enacted the rites to bring his deceased brethren back, though only as a pale mockery of life.
“Close it, quickly!” Aiden breathed, his pulse racing and his hands clammy from the tension. Pacian stood unmoving, frozen to the spot, staring back at the approaching horror until Valennia slammed the door shut and leaned against it to hold it in place.
“We should not wait for Nellise,” she advised, “let us enter this pit of horrors and slay the mad priest without delay!”
“We are not slaying Corvyn,” Sir William protested. “We will get him out of that tomb and return him to custody where he can be cared for.” A heavy ‘thump’ at the door almost knocked Valennia from her feet. Sir William added his weight, leaning against the stone door in an effort to keep it closed. The crowd of people making their way out of the cathedral saw this and panicked, stampeding out the door and almost crushing some unfortunate priests in the process.
“She’s right, we shouldn’t wait for Nel,” Aiden said with a tremulous voice, drawing his blade and swinging it a couple of times to test its balance.
“Alright, we step back, open the door and I will wade in, cutting down whatever stands in our way,” Valennia instructed. “Follow me in, old man, if you wish to show me your mettle.”
“I will support your advance, of that you can be certain,” Sir William replied gruffly.
“When you move in, I will have to close the door behind you,” Ashwyn warned. “I cannot allow those abominations to defile this holy place with their presence. God be with you all.”
“If Corvyn is harmed, or heaven forbid killed,” Sir William replied coldly, “there shall be a reckoning, I swear it.” Ashwyn nodded meekly, remaining silent.
The sounds of rapid footsteps approaching caught Aiden’s attention, and he could see Nellise rushing towards them as fast as she could with her breastplate partially strapped on and weapons on her back.
“Give me a hand with this, Pace,” she asked quickly. Ashwyn looked on impassively, but withheld comment. Nellise looked back at him, equally silent, until she placed her helmet over her head and threaded her white-blond hair out through the back. Taking out her repeating crossbow, she began whispering prayers while laying one hand purposefully upon its length.
“I find your blessing of a weapon to be… distasteful,” Ashwyn commented dryly.
“And yet God answers my prayers,” Nellise retorted. “That should give you something to ponder while my companions and I clean up your mess.” She then nodded to Valennia and raised the crossbow up to cover the doorway, while Aiden and Pacian stepped to one side.
After Sir William had jumped back, Val swung open the door expecting to see a horde of risen priests clamouring for their deaths. Instead, there was nothing but the darkness. They stood around the door for a long, tense moment, before Valennia, her axe held ready in both hands, took a few steps inside.
“We need light,” she muttered, and Nellise quickly whispered a prayer that lit her crossbow. The akoran warrior proceeded inside cautiously, with Sir William and Nellise following close behind. Aiden and Pacian reluctantly ventured in, bringing up the rear.
Aiden struggled to stop his hands from shaking as they moved further into the mausoleum. What began as a short corridor turned into a stairway of broad stone steps leading down into the gloom. The place seemed to be meticulously clean, despite the apparent age of the stone brick walls.
The door slammed shut, leaving them standing above the stairs in near darkness, lit only by the light shed by Nellise’s prayer. Their shadows were long and towered above them on the walls, adding to the unsettling atmosphere of the mausoleum.
“We move,” Valennia ordered. “Stay focused and do not stray far from me, or I cannot protect you.” Without waiting for a reply, she began slowly descending, keeping her axe at the ready.
“Where are they?” Pacian whispered nervously. “We saw one right up at the doorway, it couldn’t have just vanished… right?”
“I thought it was keeping guard, but maybe it just came because the door was open,” Aiden speculated in a quiet voice. “Where do you think Corvyn would be?”
“Ashwyn spoke of him talking to the remains of Sir Marcus,” Sir William whispered over his shoulder. “His tomb is to the left at the bottom of these stairs.”
“That doesn’t sound far,” Pacian remarked hopefully.
“It is roughly seventy yards, through an entire wing of the Church’s honoured dead,” the knight added. “If Corvyn has indeed used forbidden…” his voice trailed off as they reached the bottom of the stairs and saw before them dozens of pale blue eyes, glowing in the reflected light. Each of the cadavers stared at them, still wrapped in the vestments which had been used in preparing their remains long ago.
Aiden froze in fear as the host shuffled towards them, moving as fast as the state of their decaying bodies permitted. Pacian screamed and stumbled up the stairs as fast as he could, while Valennia, for all her bravado, staggered backward a step.
Sir William was the exception of the group, not merely holding his ground but advancing upon them.
“These are but the defiled remains of the honoured dead,” the knight called as the risen priests moved straight towards him. “We shall return them to their eternal rest.” Nellise, as shocked as Aiden at the sight of their worst fears come to pass, snapped out of her trance and loosed a bolt at the nearest reanimated cadaver.
A flash of light blinded them for a moment as the blessed bolt touched the unholy creature. It breathed a raspy scream and flailed at the bolt sticking out of its chest, only to have another strike its leg with similar results.
Steam arose from their corpses as more blessed bolts purified the abomination, distracting it enough that Sir William was able to step in and shatter its decaying bones over the ancient stone paving with one sweep of his blade.
Sir William, for all his bravery, was in danger of being surrounded by the monsters unless Aiden and the others managed to pull themselves together. With shaking hands he raised the parchment of lightning, and began to read out the few lines of arcane runes to release the energy stored within.
Pointing into the crowd, Aiden succeeded in reading the incantation without error and the parchment quickly shrivelled into ash. An arc of electricity lit up the mausoleum as if it were the middle of the day, crackling through the horde of reanimated priests from one end to the other. The smell of charred flesh filled his nostrils as some of the cadavers caught fire, howling as they thrashed about.
The bolt of lightning also served another purpose – it was a signal to the others that they had a chance against the horde, and it was a
ll Valennia needed to gather her wits and let out a piercing battle cry as she charged into the fray. She swept her axe back and forth against the supernatural monsters, taking off limbs and severing bones.
This was not a one-sided fight, however, as the cadavers seemed to be imbued with incredible strength. Each swing of their arms struck with brute force. Nellise continued to shoot a storm of crossbow bolts at the cadavers, but of Pacian, there was no sign. Aiden summoned his force shield and against all his instincts, moved in to help his allies.
The smell at close range was almost unbearable. Aiden’s shield proved to be a blessing, for it absorbed solid hits from his relentless opponents that would surely have crippled him. When a cry of alarm came from Nellise, Aiden glanced over his shoulder to see her being assailed by a pair of arms reaching up from an adjacent casket, clawing at her robes and trying to pull her in.
She shot a crossbow bolt into the casket and the rasping sound of pain coming from within, but with the distraction keeping her busy, they were in danger of being overwhelmed. Aiden swung his sword ineffectually against one of the cadavers, and with his panic mounting he was contemplating making a break for it to regroup at the entrance to the mausoleum when a soft radiance started to envelop them.
They had been fighting by the subtle light from Nellise’s glowing crossbow, but this new light was different. The abominations before him recoiled, ceasing their attacks and allowing the beleaguered group to fall back and catch their breath. Nellise held her crystal aloft in one hand – Aiden had seen her channel such power before, but this time she was having trouble maintaining the flow. The strain was evident in her eyes.
“I can’t hold them for long,” she whispered through gritted teeth. Aiden knew why she was having difficulty, but this was hardly the time or place to discuss it.
Having overcome his initial fear of the animated cadavers, Aiden was struck by the brutal simplicity of their attacks. They had no mind to speak of, and used no finesse or strategy in their assaults, relying instead on force of numbers and supernatural strength.
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 15