Lightfoot

by Joe Kuster

  The warrior woman had changed out of her armor and wore a soft blue dress with beautiful layers of shimmering silver and black-paneled overlays and lacework, and a black choker with a blue jewel in the center. It was the fanciest clothing he’d seen so far in this realm and attested to her higher social standing.

  TJ’s eyes couldn’t help but roam her figure. It was a rather flattering outfit and showed off the womanly curves that her armor had hidden. Despite the athletic build, her figure was every bit the match to Serina’s, but that’d all been buried and squished flat under layers of chainmail and leather.

  Face clean of blood and clay, she glowed with a vibrancy that put her past maturity, but not by much. Then again, he was terrible at guessing age for other races, so she might be several years on either side of that equation. As he looked her over, he realized there was also no sign of the cuts and bruises that he hadn’t had a chance to heal.

  She spluttered, “You’re alive!”

  “Nice to see you too,” he said with a grin.

  She nearly tackled him into a hug as she flung her arms around him.

  His magic radiated as he felt her press against him. He could only assume that the oaths were very happy right now. Slowly inhaling, he was momentarily overwhelmed by the soft lilac perfume she wore, the feel of her smooth body, and her touch.

  She whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

  “Almost was. That fight turned into a whole thing,” TJ replied.

  The man in brown robes coughed, causing the pair to stiffen and separate.

  The bigger man looked expectantly at the pair. Trying to shake free the confused tangle of reactions, TJ bowed. He wasn’t sure what he should say or the local etiquette. He also wasn’t sure if this man had any type of truthseeing ability.

  He began, “My apologies. I’m…”

  “He’s the one I was talking about,” Rachel interrupted.

  TJ glanced at the woman, and she looked incredibly tense. Thinking upon it, they had seemed as they were arguing when he’d walked in, so there was no telling what was going on.

  Content to forego a formal introduction, TJ straightened and nodded. With the intense expression the other man had, he was suddenly concerned about how much Rachel had shared.

  The heavyset man in brown robes had a bald pate and chubby red cheeks. On the left side of his robes, a simple sigil with a downward pointing triangle at the center was embroidered using white thread. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead as though he’d recently exerted himself. He looked like he might pass out if asked to run up a set of stairs.

  Behind him, the skinny pale man in black robes glared openly at TJ. He had close-cropped blond hair and blue eyes and seemed to peer into TJ at an uncomfortable level. He looked similar in age to Rachel, but still bore the inflamed complexion of someone dealing with the trials of puberty. That or he’d recently run face-first into a hornet’s nest. He had a similar symbol on his ebony robes, but it had additional flourishes that matched the paper flyer he’d seen outside.

  The younger man puffed up as if to show off the insignia on his chest, and his eyes shifted toward Rachel. His gaze had a hint of hunger behind it along with some sort of expected ownership, as if he believed he deserved something from her and perhaps everyone else too. He subtly nodded toward his side with his head, as though suggesting she trot over and take a place beside him.

  Not unaware of his actions or their intent, Rachel gave a little scoff and rolled her eyes dismissively.

  TJ was pretty good at reading certain behaviors and was briefly amused because body language was certainly shared between the realms. That little interplay had gone identically to the tavern life he was used to. What she’d done was indistinguishable from when the band was playing just loud enough, and the booze was flowing freely that someone thought they could step up where they weren’t wanted.

  The black-robed man’s face twisted into a sour expression as if he were parsing what insult to throw at her, shifting to deriding her as below his notice. Seeing that things were likely to escalate quickly, TJ did what he typically did for his female friends when someone was looking a little too entitled.

  He moved forward and edged just a little closer to her, as if to suggest he were backing her up and any slur the man offered would be biting off more than some passing thing. Recognizing the intense shared scowl that both TJ and Rachel were giving him, the man opted to swallow the insults that no doubt sounded spectacular in his head.

  The unspoken failed display of superiority, posturing, and misguided attempts at courtship only took a few seconds, but the outcome and outright rejection of his offer were evident. The blond man’s eyes narrowed, promising pain and retribution. Without a word, he spun and stomped through a door in the far wall in the way that only an angsty teenager could.

  Seeing the acolyte fleeing in a huff, the man in brown robes frowned. He looked at Rachel first, then seemed to stare at TJ even harder.

  Tapping into his magic to see if he could see more details, TJ immediately got the feeling that the man had something mystical about him. He also had a sense that the man was doing something similar while looking at TJ. There was a gentle pressure between them as they felt each other out. It wasn’t hostile, but it was undoubtedly laden with some sort of magic or talent.

  The man tensed then blew out a harsh breath as the pressure vanished. “Very well. Come with me, if you would.”

  The man pivoted and walked to the far end of the chamber where numerous alcoves of trinkets, candles, and other religious symbols resided. He spun and watched the pair while waving them forward. His eyes glanced at a dark band on the floor, then back to TJ.

  TJ exchanged a concerned glance with Rachel, but she only cringed and looked apologetic.

  Unsure what else to do, he stepped over the line scribed with symbols on the wooden floor and fell to his knees as a substantial presence smashed into him. It sucked all the breath from his lungs and took everything he could do to not crumple to the floor entirely. The room dimmed, and he knelt interposed on a field of stars. Except he wasn’t looking at the night sky.

  It was like he was on stage in front of a thousand burning eyes made of distant suns. While most of the spectators looked on curiously or with indifference, others blazed with outright hostility. Thankfully, those were very far away. Most ignored him or didn’t seem to be looking in his direction. One entity that felt closer than the others stared him down in a harsh glare but eventually relented.

  He sucked in a deep breath and struggled to regain his feet as his awareness shifted back to the church. After a moment, the force relaxed, and he could breathe again. Something deep inside told TJ precisely what had just happened. He’d heard tales of divine trials and had seen smiting in action.

  The man in brown robes gave an amused huff and devolved into a deep belly laugh. Guffawing and doubling over as though this were the funniest thing in the world, it took him nearly a minute of wiping at his eyes to collect himself.

  “The look on your face was priceless.” He waved a hand in apology as he still cackled to himself and leaned on a pew for support. “But hey, you passed the test. To be honest, I was concerned the enchantment had worn off. Well, you’re not dead, so come along. You were dumb enough to cross the threshold in the first place, so obviously Rachel was right that you’re new at this.”

  TJ suddenly felt like setting the man on fire. His magic agreed as it thrummed unhappily.

  Sensing TJ’s anger, the man held both hands up, trying to defuse the situation. “I had to know if you were aligned against my pantheon. I’m forbidden from helping in any way until I knew that. It’s part of my vows. That’s what Miss Blackstone and I were… debating. Our resident New Order acolyte, Sven, wasn’t helping things either.”

  Still scowling, TJ stalked forward, fists clenched tight. The chubby man paled, sensing that he was treading on thin ice.

  Seething, TJ growled out, “You set me up for divine judgment and r
etribution. If the Lady of the Stars had been watching, your entire realm might have been destroyed. She’s not known for her restraint. She’s ended entire worlds because someone offended her. At a minimum, you about got me and my family tortured to death with that little stunt.”

  “Gerald! What the hell, is that true? You said you were just going to ask questions, not kill him!” Rachel yelled.

  Gerald hesitated, “I… uh… I don’t know. Maybe? But it was pretty funny to watch. Just walking along then… bam. We spent weeks putting in that enchantment. It was worth every copper to see it in action.”

  TJ snarled, “You just flipped a coin on this village being slaughtered, and you’re still laughing about it.”

  Red-faced, Rachel strode forward and slammed her fist into big man’s gut with surprising speed.

  “Grughr…” he moaned and collapsed to his knees.

  Coughing, the man shook his head and wheezed helplessly.

  Judging from his reaction, the petite woman knew how to throw a proper punch with a fair amount of follow-through. TJ wasn’t a slouch, but he wasn’t sure he could have landed that hard of a blow. Of course, there was also the possibility that Gerald was an extreme lightweight. Perhaps it was both.

  Rachel returned by TJ’s side and stared daggers at the other man as she placed her hand on TJ’s back.

  TJ glanced over, and something clicked.

  This was a small village. She’d probably known Gerald her entire life, but she’d readily believed TJ and sided with him over the man. Something about that situation made his magic do a happy little tap dance in his chest even if he couldn’t pinpoint precisely why he cared. Deciding that it was merely that an attractive woman was touching him in a borderline possessive way, TJ chose not to overthink it.

  Still, he could use a bit of direction. The man had magic, and TJ desperately needed some guidance. He was getting fed up with not having a clue.

  Sighing, TJ reached out a hand and hauled the big man off the floor. “Don’t ever do something like that again.”

  Gerald nodded gravely, then made to sit down on the nearby pew.

  TJ tried to start the conversation. “Look, I know very little about how things work. I’ve got magic of some sort. Healing, as Rachel can attest to, and some sort of glittering fire that hurts to use. Probably more, but I have no idea what to even try. I came from… elsewhere. I’m not sure how much is safe to say. The people I’m on the run from are the ones that would destroy your realm on a whim. It’s safer for everyone if I’m not a clueless dolt that is going to draw their eyes.”

  Gerald took a few moments while he rubbed where he’d been punched.

  “That’s, uh, not the first time I’ve heard of something like that. I guess I can give you a few pointers, but keep her on a leash,” he said, pointing to Rachel.

  TJ snorted. “I just met her, and you about got everyone here killed. The way I figure it, she was in the right. Besides, if I’d been against you, what would have happened?”

  Gerald rolled his eyes. “Anyone opposed to the pantheon is supposed to be hit with Timarat’s divine fire.”

  TJ waved to the wooden building, wooden furniture, and the thick woven rugs that lined most of the floors. If he had to describe the setting, he’d call it… combustible. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t think he needed to.

  Light dawned in Gerald’s eyes. “Oh… maybe I should have put that outside.”

  “Uh-huh. Look, I need a bit of advice. Or instruction. Whatever you want to call it. Yesterday I ended up bound to a… well… being with some divine powers,” TJ began.

  Gerald screwed up his eyes then poked at the air surrounding TJ. The man seemed very confused.

  “Doesn’t look like it. Or at least, you’re not a priest or paladin. I’d know. Although your sheet is an absolute mess. I can’t really tell what is going on. It’s all these squiggly things,” he said.

  Not sure what to do with that comment, TJ replied, “Got any ideas on what’s going on with me? Things feel different.”

  Gerald frowned. “You’ve got magic, and I can see it’s coming from somewhere else. It’s not been anchored to this realm yet, but that is all I can tell. Well, that and you’re not aligned with a corrupt god, so that’s good. Your patron hasn’t reached out?”

  TJ shook his head. “She’s busy. This wasn’t something we planned. She was fighting off her family as she bound and flung me through a portal without a destination in mind.”

  “So, you’ve met your patron? You know them?” the man asked excitedly.

  TJ quirked a brow. “Uh, yeah? You don’t know your benefactor?”

  Gerald looked confused. “I mean, I know who I serve, but I’ve not met them. Just a voice in my dreams. You’ve talked with your patron directly, as in have been to their realm?”

  “I was born in her realm.” TJ blushed as he added, “And let’s just say I know her quite intimately.”

  “Oh,” Gerald replied with a frown. “That’s… really unusual from what I know. Being exiled from a higher plane is rare, and I’ve never heard of a mortal surviving it. Immortals can manage it since they are made up of divine essence. However, once a mortal has been exposed to that influence, most can’t survive without it. It’s an ugly way to go. I’ve heard they kinda just fall apart.”

  TJ shrugged. “Your sun feels colder. It’s like something is missing.”

  Gerald shrugged. “While I don’t doubt you, I have no information to offer. You’re the first I’ve heard of.”

  “Well, I get these twinges. It’s like I’m missing that warmth, but I think my magic is trying to make up the difference where it can. If I look inside, it reminds me of home, and, well, my patron. I’m pretty sure it’s directly from her essence,” TJ said.

  Gerald tapped his foot on the floor for a bit, mulling over what TJ had said.

  Eventually, he said, “Honestly? I think you’re some sort of warlock. But that takes selling your soul, so most of those serve corrupted power, but nothing prevents it from happening in other ways. I don’t really know much about their magic. I’ve read a little about it, but nothing in-depth. It’s all written from the outside observer’s perspective.”

  TJ tossed that idea around in his mind, then looked inwardly.

  “She did ask for our soul. What do you think, buddy? Are we a warlock?” he asked himself.

  His magic slipped side to side slowly as though debating the options. The term didn’t really mean much without extra context. Not giving an answer, his essence seemed to be lost in thought.

  TJ asked, “Do oaths have anything to do with being a warlock?”

  Gerald replied, “Yeah, almost entirely. There should be a set of commandments. If a warlock goes against those commandments, their binding is restricted, and their power is lessened. It can be broken if you were to reject the oaths outright, but they keep your soul either way.

  “What I read suggests that the closer a warlock embodies those commandments, the stronger their power becomes. Although, that also amplifies their compulsions, which makes them incredibly dangerous. Uh… not to be a jerk, but most are nasty pieces of work. Violence, mayhem, chaos, and mass murder, those types of things. I’d feel a lot better if you could share a bit of what you’ve been asked to do.”

  TJ snorted, and his cheeks began burning. “Uh… nothing like that. I wasn’t a soldier or anything. Instead, I entertained my patron in, uh, other ways. My oaths are… private. Nothing violent, I promise. Pretty much the opposite, really. Just, uh… intimate.”

  Rachel gave him a penetrating look, and it caused him to shift uncomfortably, but she seemed puzzled by his words.

  Gerald coughed and looked embarrassed, having gotten a better idea. “Ah… uhm, I guess that’s possible. The divine take many forms. Although I sense you’re really asking me what your magic can do and type of spells you can cast, right?”

  TJ nodded. “Yeah. I’m running blind. If I draw the wrong attention, that’d be bad for everyone.�
��

  “I see. Well, we don’t have much of a library here, and I doubt you’d find anything for a warlock. You’d really need to hit a bigger city for that. Honestly? I don’t even know where to send you. The only warlocks I’ve even heard of embodied absolute evil, so the king sent his mage killers after them,” Gerald said.

  TJ said, “So, no hints? No spells I might be able to try?”

  Gerald shook his head. “Sorry. My magic is more of a request system. As a priest, I ask for assistance. If I’m worthy, and Timarat is listening, I’m used as a conduit. I don’t cast anything myself, so I can’t help much. Even then, my powers have taken a hit lately. Meanwhile, many of the New Order disciples are being granted other magics like sorcery, but they aren’t the type to share.”

  TJ asked, “I’ll confess, I don’t know much about religion. There’s not much point praying when you can talk with divine beings if you’re brave enough to get close to them. How do you have one church with two sets of followers?”

  Gerald gave a short laugh. “I wish it were only two. Ratamit’s clergy left town over a year ago, but the church is still half his. Some of their faithful show up for offerings that I can’t touch. Every fall festival they come in with a bunch of food that’s left to rot. It makes quite the mess.

  “As far as Timarat’s flock, I’m afraid you caught us in the middle of a religious schism. The New Order has been gaining ground, and us traditionalists aren’t on good terms with them.” Gerald glanced around the room and leaned in close. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t waste your time with them. While they have some valid complaints that I agree with, some of the hard-liners twisted the sacred verses to justify genocide and enslaving non-believers. I doubt you’d get far once they found out you’re connected to another deity. It’s like they are looking for someone to blame for anything and everything, so they might take it out on newcomers.”

  TJ asked, “I’m… not sure I get it. What exactly are they protesting that’s bad enough they’d separate your church?”