The Children of Never_A War Priests of Andrak Saga

by Christian Warren Freed

  Stars winked as the heavens spun. He tried recalling what he’d been taught as child, but those memories eluded him. He liked to think they were reflections of sunlight, though a theory gaining popularity suggested each star was on track to strike the planet, killing everything on impact. Kastus held little stock in the naysayers. Without any verifiable way of knowing the truth in the stars, he was content to let them be wonders of light dancing across the midnight sky.

  A sound stirred him. So faint he nearly missed it. Kastus rose to his elbows, looking to see if any of the soldiers nearby also heard it. Most were asleep. A few stared blankly into the campfires. There was no immediate danger in this part of Fent, though Thep was wise enough to place both stationary and roving guards around the perimeter. Thus far Brogon Lord had only gone after children, but there was nothing to say he wouldn’t strike a grown target. Even if it was part of an armed column of soldiers.

  The sound repeated. Kastus crawled from his sleeping roll, slipped into his cloak, and clutched the hilt of the short sword at his waist. Foul deeds were afoot and he wasn’t about to succumb to complacency in the middle of the wild. Kastus decided against waking the others, though for reasons he failed to understand. Strange sounds came from the surrounding area, but he felt no threat.

  Silent as possible, he crept through the mass of sleeping soldiers and their kit. He never understood how these men and women could sleep anywhere, without complaint. The hard soil and multitude of rocks jabbing into his flesh managed to keep him restless, and that after but half a night. Kastus almost longed for the comfort of his bed and hearth. Almost. Their quest was just beginning and he feared it would be long before he was able to return.

  At last he emerged from the ring of bodies. Kastus searched the night for sign of the roving guards. There were none. Was it possible that all of them were asleep? His knowledge of the military was limited, but he knew enough that there should be soldiers awake at all times. Security was paramount and he discovered it lacking this night. He turned to find Thep and give him a proper dress down.

  The sound began as a low whistle, the cry of the wind across the grass. Gradually it grew into an enchanting melody. Kastus’s eyes fluttered, threatening to close. He clenched his fists, fighting the desire to return to sleep. There was magic at play, and for reasons he failed to understand, it left him unaffected. A blessing, or bane. Yet still he felt no threat. The song struck chords deep within his soul. He felt pulled forth.

  Kastus edged across the open field and up a low rise. A bank of clouds concealed what moonlight there was, cascading the landscape into an ethereal place trapped between worlds. His heart lurched, for the possibility of encountering the Grey Wanderer chilled him. He scanned the area, absorbing every bush and shadow. There was no sign of a hooded figure bearing a lantern.

  He had almost relaxed when movement to the right drew his attention. Kastus dropped to the ground and with some difficulty, drew his sword. The figure emerged from the night, walking with casual purpose on a course parallel to that of the soldiers. Kastus squinted to get a better look and gasped as the image cleared.

  The figure was almost as tall as a man and had a mane of blackest hair. Kastus could just make out the flat, expressionless face. What stunned him most was realizing the figure had pale green flesh beneath a vest of woven bone. A shaman! One of the fabled Sclarem.

  They were an enigmatic race, long thought to have become extinct. Wanderers of the world with magic infused in their essence. Neither good nor bad, the shamans were rumored to possess great insight in the ways of the races. Kastus had scoffed at them, thinking their kind no more than childhood foolishness. Seeing one this night offered him the opportunity to reexamine all he thought to be true.

  The Sclarem walked north, uncaring of being spied upon. Kastus watched as the grass circled around thong clad calves in an almost loving manner. The shamans were one with the world. A living memory of all that once was. He did not know why, but his heart felt lighter upon seeing one. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as the Sclarem faded back into the night. When he managed to return to his sleeping roll, Kastus found sleep ready for him. He did not awaken until the dawn.

  NINE

  Northern Fent

  Sunlight had never felt so good. Freed from the strange world he’d stumbled into the previous night, Kastus rode with conflicting emotions. There was serenity to be found in his encounter with the shaman. A peacefulness he’d never known and doubted he would ever find again. Therein lay the illusion. Whatever arcane purpose the Sclarem was about, Kastus doubted it coincided with his. They belonged in separate worlds, disparate of relationship or bearing.

  Digging beyond the scope of serenity, Kastus was troubled by the appearance. He wasn’t a man prone to thoughts of grandeur. A simple man, the Constable performed his tasks with alacrity and professionalism that often collided with his genuine humble nature. So why had the Sclarem deigned to cross his path? Was this a warning from the other world? A chance for Kastus to take heed and reorganize his thoughts before encountering Brogon Lord? He wished he had answers, but Kastus feared they would remain elusive until too late. Fear of failing his Baron assailed him. Doubt was, he learned long ago, a crippling monster.

  “Sir, you seem … disturbed this morning,” Thep managed, after half the morning passed. He respected Kastus for his position but remained wary of where they stood in relation to the chain of command. The highest law enforcement in the duchy, Kastus was a separate entity from the meagre military Einos possessed.

  Thankful for the disruption, Kastus feigned a smile. “Bad night’s sleep. I fear the wild is no friend of mine.”

  “It does take some time getting used to,” Thep confirmed his posh status.

  Kastus suspected the young officer was one of the upper class. Perhaps the son of a wealthy merchant. Men like that seldom spent time in the ranks, moving immediately into the officer corps. This formed rifts between the rank and file and middle leadership, though Kastus was unaware of any animosity rippling through the army. Other duchies weren’t as fortunate.

  He decided not to make his counterpart any more uncomfortable. “Were there any issues with the guards last night?”

  “The guards?” Thep was taken off-guard. “None that Sergeant Sava has informed of. Do you suspect something?”

  A slight wave. “No, just curious to the mannerisms of the army. I’ve spent my lifetime in law enforcement. Military life lacked appeal for me.”

  “We share similar hardships. I doubt I would have made an adequate constable. My father certainly wouldn’t have approved,” Thep admitted. His cheeks flushed, fearing he’d said too much.

  Kastus immediately noticed the discomfort. “Relax, Thep. I pass no judgment. Men are called to their individual strengths. We seldom choose our paths. Tell me, what does your father do?”

  “Did, Sir. He passed some years ago. He ran a small merchanting house. It was never one of the more successful ones though.”

  “You were forced into the army,” Kastus concluded.

  A nod. No more needed saying. Constable and Captain came to an understanding. Both men respected the other and agreed to allow each the opportunity to do his job. Kastus was an accompaniment to the army. His task was to acquire and train volunteers from the northern villages to trap the once dead man. Thep and his men were meant to provide the hammer to end the threat once and for all. They were already deep into the afternoon when the thatch roofs of Palis edged into view.

  “First platoon! Fall out and occupy this village,” Sava bellowed. He appeared wider than usual with both meaty fists on his hips. “Second platoon! Cordon off the roads. I don’t want anyone getting in or out until Cap’n says. Move it, dogs! We’re burning daylight!”

  Squad leaders peeled their men off from the main column and much to Kastus’s amusement, undertook their assignments with remarkable precision. The army of Fent was barely one thousand men and that included the civilian reserves, but if these one hu
ndred were any indication, Kastus feared for any invading force. He was impressed.

  Orders had been given ahead of time that no one was to draw their weapons unless confronted. Palis was a loyal village in the duchy and not under any suspicion. Conveying this to the village leaders fell on his shoulders. Occupying the village would further reduce the Baron’s effectiveness in maintaining control. An act they couldn’t afford. This basic order conflicted with Kastus’s mission of finding the child stealer.

  Two men with white beards waggling down past their sternums and a rail thin woman with the most severe look he’d ever seen, stalked out of the town hall to meet them. Kastus took Thep with him, insisting the Captain walk a step behind so as not to imply this was a military takeover.

  “Constable, welcome to Palis. I would say we were expecting you but …”

  “Your intrusion is most unexpected and unwelcome,” the woman interrupted. The rigidity of her stance left no doubt as to her position.

  Kastus bowed his head in respect. “Lady, we are not here to complicate your lives. Rather, the Baron decreed we move north.”

  “My name is Deana. I am no lady,” she remarked. “Has Einos reason to suspect duplicity?”

  “This, ah, matter would be best discussed in private,” Kastus choked.

  Thep shifted uncomfortably behind.

  “We have no secrets here. Palis is an open community,” Deana replied.

  Patience lost, Kastus drew up to his full height and fixed her with an equally glowering look. “Lady Deana, do not force me to have you placed under arrest for obstructing a royal investigation.”

  Lips pursed, Kastus mused at the venom building in her expression. “Very well. If this foolishness is to be conducted, let us adjourn indoors.”

  “A wise choice, Lady.”

  Several citizens came forth. Most were curious, for it had been almost a generation since the last time the Barony was forced to send soldiers. Others were enraged at the indignity. Kastus had no doubt Deana would fuel their fire the moment his back was turned. Clasping her in irons might be best for all. He and Thep followed the village elders into the largest structure in Palis. The reek of damp thatch twisted his nose. An old dog, blind in one milky eye, watched as they went by.

  Deana whirled on Kastus the instant they were secured within, the doors shut. “There is no call for what you are doing, Constable. We are a loyal village with no ties to any other duchy. Remove your forces and allow us to return to our business.”

  “You are in no position to submit demands,” Kastus replied. “We have not come to demean your citizenry. Baron Einos, as you may have heard, is beset with a most dire problem.”

  “How is this our concern?” Her flat tone suggested she knew the issue and was disinclined to implicate Palis any further than it already was by his being there.

  Kastus clenched a fist, tapping it against his thigh. Arresting her proved more enticing the longer she spoke. “You are citizens of the Baron. It is not your place to question what he deems best, or right, for the duchy.”

  “How dare you …”

  “Deana, shut up and let him speak. If there is a threat to our village, I would know of it,” the eldest snarled. Not giving her the opportunity for rebuttal, he faced Kastus. “My apologies sir, but we are very fond of our way of life here. I am Elder Mugh. This is Elder Waern. What is this issue Baron Einos deems important?”

  At last. We might be able to accomplish something. “The Grey Wanderer has been seen.”

  Gasps rippled through the elders, for the name was synonymous with doom.

  “He has returned a man from the dead. A man we believe to be behind the abduction and possible murders of nearly twenty children.”

  “You suspect this man is here, in Palis?” Waern asked. His pale face grew ashen.

  Kastus held up a hand, lest panic grip them all. “No, sir, but we have tracked the trail of reported abductions and plotted several eventualities. The once dead man is moving north, choosing victims at random in the main villages along his route of march. Palis and Jul are the two villages in his path. Our plan is to occupy your village until we either catch this fiend or deem enough time has passed that he is no longer a threat.”

  “A F’talle! Here in Palis! We are beset by great evil,” Mugh wailed. His hands began to tremble.

  Kastus studied them, curious to their mixed reactions. Mugh was visibly shaken. Deana managed to maintain a modicum of composure. It was Waern who drew his attention. There was coldness in his eyes, as if he’d been expecting such revelation. What are you hiding, Elder? What demons occupy your mind?

  “We are ahead of him, and it is possible he may not come to Palis. We must be prepared in any event,” Kastus continued. It took great effort to spread his focus to all three elders.

  To his surprise, it was Deana who asked, “What do you require from us? Palis is a small village with limited resources.”

  “Allow us to establish a command post here, in this hall if possible, from which to operate. Gods willing, we should be able to stop him soon.”

  “You may use this hall for your base of operations but know that you are unwelcome here. No matter the circumstance,” she insisted.

  He’d encountered her type many times in the past. A powerful figure unwilling to relinquish a fraction of authority, despite being subservient to the Baron’s authority. She knew Kastus could have her executed if matters became dire, but it stood an empty threat. He bore the people of Palis no ill will, even cantankerous ones in need of being put in their place. She was not the threat. Waern, on the other hand, bothered him for reasons he wasn’t sure of.

  “Where do you propose I garrison my men, if not in the village proper? We have not come with campaign equipment, Lady Deana,” Thep stepped forward. “We are a judiciary punishment force.”

  “Who travels in haste, with improper equipment? I daresay Einos has acted rashly.”

  “It is not for you or I to say what the Baron does. Shall I order my men to occupy key homes, Constable?”

  Kastus grew impressed with the inexperienced Captain. What he lacked in experience was compensated through quick wit. “That is their decision, Captain.”

  Mugh sputtered. “N ... now wait a moment! We are not the enemy. If this matter is as grave as you intone, we shall do all within our power to ensure not another child is stolen. Deana, relent and give the Captain access to whatever he requires.”

  Kastus almost felt sorry for the old man. Raw hatred spewed from her eyes. “Very well,” she said with terse voice. “Your men shall utilize the hall for sleeping and eating. There are latrines in the rear. Conduct your soldierly business in as least offensive manner as possible, Captain. Find this monster and be gone lest you force me to reevaluate my decision.”

  Knowing there was little point in debating further, Kastus allowed her the illusion of superiority. There’d be time enough to see who was in charge once Brogon Lord was captured. He waited until he and Thep were alone before continuing. “Captain, I believe we have business to attend.”

  Thep’s grin reminded him of a child getting away with doing wrong. “How do you think they will react when we tell them some of their people are being conscripted?”

  “One battle at a time, Captain.”

  TEN

  North of the Indolense Permital

  Decades of service to the war priests robbed Quinlan of a life that could have been. What imagined occupations might have awaited him had he not dedicated his years to defending the world from utter darkness! Sadly, Quinlan was a child of violence. A bastion of hope, standing firm against the crushing tide of the Omegri in their eternal struggle to conquer the world. Few understood him. Fewer knew he existed. The war priests were never many.

  His stoic eyes considered his apprentice. Donal Sawq was becoming a quality man, one whose worth was more than his weight in gems. Too few who survived the Burning Season decided to join the cause and become a war priest. Not that Quinlan blamed them. If w
as no easy task surviving one hundred days of pure horror. The majority of knights and squires, thrill seekers and sell swords fell to the Omegri, leaving shells of those survivors. Had matters gone differently, he might have shied away as well.

  Lord General Rosca recognized Quinlan’s potential early and began grooming him for increasing positions of authority. Rumor suggested he was going to appoint Quinlan his successor. Quinlan discounted such theories as nonsense. He’d come to Castle Andrak a broken man. The lone survivor of the now fallen Castle Bendris. More failure than saint. Wiser men would have shunned him as cursed.

  Ghosts of fallen comrades haunted Quinlan on his travels south to Andrak. Of the six mighty castles designed to prevent the Omegri’s return, only Andrak stood. Each castle was built upon a gateway to the ethereal plain. Passage between realms was only possible at these specific points, thus limiting the Omegri’s influence among the population. They were the key to the defense of the world.

  Rosca refused to turn the broken priest away. War was coming. He needed every priest he could get. Even ones with shattered confidence. Quinlan’s passion for the Order spread through the ranks. He was one of the few who gained the Lord General’s confidence, enough that Rosca admitted he was attempting to rebuild the Order and reclaim all five fallen castles.

  While glorious, none of that mattered to Quinlan. His task to Fent was paramount to all else. The Burning Season was yet weeks away, ample time for him to complete his task and return to defend the walls. So far, his journey had taken him off the Andrak peninsula and beyond the haunted forests of the Scour. He and Donal spent a night in the village of Spindle before continuing southwest.

  The Indolense Permital lay ahead. A mile-wide chasm half as deep. A massive forest sprawled across the floor, sprinkled with small villages of Majj. These warriors were rumored to have come from the elder races and bore animosity toward all that had come later. Whisper suggested the Majj constructed the six castles of the war priests. True or not, Quinlan had yet to see one of the red skinned creatures and wasn’t sure he wanted to.