The Children of Never: A War Priests of Andrak Saga (The War Priests of Andrak Saga Book 1)

by Christian Warren Freed

  Satisfied that positive movement was occurring, Einos relaxed his stance. He’d come expecting a fight, for it was always a challenge to get a man to rise after being knocked down. “What direction do you suggest we take this quest?”

  “My gut tells me we are getting closer to unraveling this mystery. The F’talle was caught unawares. He will not be so again,” Quinlan explained. “I fear the only way to get Lizette, and the children back, if they still live, is by going into the Other Realm. Whatever evil is at work is almost entirely there.”

  “Has anyone survived a journey to that foul place?” Einos asked. His concern deepened.

  Quinlan had no answer. To his knowledge, no one had, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. The Order dedicated lifetimes of research, always seeking to stop the Omegri from invading. Taking the war to another dimension was theoretical, if not practical. That Brogon Lord was able to make the crossing at will left him puzzled.

  “The Other Realm is an unknown place,” he answered after his thoughts ran into a dead end. “In theory, there is a crossing point not far from here.”

  “The grave?” Einos guessed.

  “Possible, but we cannot know for sure. The spell I enacted was created for that specific point, without regards to the governing laws of the Other Realm. I am not qualified to give deeper analysis, however,” Quinlan said. “Others at Castle Andrak are steeped in lore.”

  “I cannot afford to waste time sending for another priest,” Einos shook his head. “Events are escalating. This matter needs to be solved now.”

  “Donal and I will do our best,” Quinlan reassured.

  His confidence returned, somewhat, and he was already thinking ahead. Losing Tender Cannandal was a major blow, for there the possibility of speaking to the dead was now lost to them. Quinlan was forced to search the depths of memory for any skills that might defeat the F’talle and restore order to Fent.

  “You shan’t do it alone,” Einos reinforced. “I have received word that Kastus and the company of soldiers I deployed north will be returning within the next few days. He knows this village in and out. If anyone can help you find Brogon Lord and end his tyranny, it is him.”

  “His assistance will be most appreciated,” Quinlan said in thanks.

  “In the meantime, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to take the rest of the day to recover. I, for one, am still unsure of what I witnessed at the grave,” Einos admitted. Losing two of his best house guards stung, enough that he hadn’t come to terms with their deaths or telling Aneth. Though, he wasn’t sure she needed the additional trauma, given her current condition.

  “A respite would be most appreciated,” Quinlan agreed.

  Satisfied that they were back on the right path, Einos left the war priests to whatever it was they did when not fighting the Omegri.

  It was then Quinlan realized he was hungry. He liked Einos, possibly enough to call friend if they each had different callings. Ally was the closest he could manage. Men like Einos were rare, offering solid glimpses into a brighter future. Quinlan found hope in that. He looked to his novice, now understanding how he had undervalued Donal for too long. Another mistake aimed to correct.

  “You performed admirably in the graveyard, Donal. It has been my pleasure to train you thus far,” Quinlan admitted. “There are many dark times ahead of us, and I am grateful to have you to ward my back.”

  “It is a privilege. I spent years not knowing which direction I wanted to go in life. The Order gave that to me, and more,” Donal replied. His face was sincere. “You have done more for me than almost anyone. There is no way I can repay that.”

  “There is. Become a better man than I. My life is one of regret and mistakes. All I ask from you is that you rise above my failures and blaze a path on your own merits.”

  Donal was left speechless, for he had never viewed his mentor in any other light than perfection.

  Breaking into a smile, Quinlan added, “Come, that fight took more out of me than I expected. If my stomach growls any louder, I’m afraid it may devour itself!”

  The moment of crisis passed, and the war priests managed to relax. Brogon Lord remained at large, and with Lizette as his prisoner, but that could wait at least long enough for Quinlan to sate his hunger and think of a new plan.

  “Calm down, love. You are beginning to worry me.”

  Aneth’s concerns prompted Einos to exhale a deep, pensive breath. “What else can I be? Every move I have made thus far has turned out to be wrong. Kastus found nothing, or so he claims. The war priests led to Lizette being taken. I feel it all slipping away from me, Aneth. Slipping away and there is nothing I can do.”

  Her hand was warm in his. “There are always other options. We just haven’t discovered the right one. Give it time.”

  Einos knew time was a luxury he didn’t have. He was a man used to decisive, quick action, yet the once dead man robbed him of initiative. Unless he managed to learn why Brogon Lord was stealing children, he would forever be stuck behind. It was a game he could ill afford to play. Not with so many lives at stake.

  “Perhaps I’ll feel better once Kastus returns. Obstinate as he is, the old buzzard is a voice of strength, as well as reason. I need him,” Einos admitted more to himself than her.

  She grinned as his thoughts became transparent. He will make a fine father. I could not have married a better man. Aneth was disturbed when she noticed him giving her a queer look. “What?”

  “You looked lost for a moment,” he answered.

  “I was thinking of happier times to come.”

  The brightness of her smile was enough to beat back the wall of darkness closing in, for a time. With her at his side, Einos felt empowered. He’d never understood why she said yes to marrying him but spent each day since more grateful than the last. Love, he decided, was much better than the alternative.

  Placing his hand on her stomach, Einos closed his eyes and tried to imagine being a father. “We will come through this, won’t we?”

  “We must. Our child will have need of a strong father,” she replied.

  That was enough for him. Satisfied, Einos kissed her forehead and excused himself. Now that they’d escaped the encounter with Lord, it was time to settle in and prepare for the battle to come. This time, he intended on being prepared.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The Fent Countryside

  What little warmth remaining in the late afternoon sunlight bathed his face. Hidden valleys of flesh lost among the many lines and creases upon his weathered face remained cold, untouched. He didn’t mind. It was a constant reminder of his time in this land. Several human lifetimes came and went, and he still roamed the plains and mountains. Some claimed it a curse, others a blessing from the gods. He decided long ago that it was neither. It just was.

  Once lustrous black hair was streaked with grey. His bones, while strong, felt more brittle than a decade ago. Reluctant to admit, he was tired. His time was drawing to a close. And when he was gone, part of the world would weep. From a fading breed, he was caught in a life of perpetual loneliness. The promise of rejoining those others who’d gone on before him enticed him as he prepared for his greatest challenge.

  He hadn’t known what drew him to Fent until his encounter with the F’talle. They were an ancient enemy he’d long thought extinct. Disappointed, the sclarem scratched a long nail across his cheek. White streaks slowly faded in his dull green skin. The Grey Wanderer was at play again and where he went, foul things followed. Known only as Dalem, the sclarem crouched in the ankle high grasses and scooped a handful of dirt.

  Soft winds blew the dirt away to form images in the air. Dalem watched as the F’talle appeared and disappeared. Children, young and frightened, working to build a great construct in the Other Realm. Each piece helped form an intricate puzzle. Dalem cocked his head, studying the vague figures without shape or definition before they fell to the ground in a whisper of dust. The true source of corruption in the land. But who were t
hey? No power he recalled encountering over the course of many centuries. Could this new threat be in league with the Omegri? Or a replacement for their terrible evil?

  Left with more questions than answers, Dalem decided there was but one course of action available. It was with great reluctance he rose, stretched, and began the long journey to the center of Fent. Destiny awaited.

  Kastus was beyond furious. His hand lingered threatening on his sword. A lesser man would have given in and taken heads for the crimes committed. Waern’s warehouses were unsalvageable. By the time he arrived, the fires were already too hot and burning too fast to do much more than ensure the surrounding buildings were unaffected. Kastus knew this was no accident, nor did he have any doubts that all Waern’s records were within. Most likely the source of the fire.

  He faced the gathered crowd, for most of Palis had come out to watch. “Did anyone see who did this?”

  That no one came forward wasn’t surprising. He’d seen enough during his time as Constable to know information was seldom freely given in large forums. Kastus was left in a difficult situation. A crime had been committed, in his opinion, and it was his oath bound duty to find the culprits. Regardless of his personal opinion that Waern was behind the convenient blaze, he was in a position to appear to take action. Justice must be served.

  “Captain Thep, no one leaves here until they are questioned,” he ordered.

  Thep was sworn to obey, for the Constable took precedence. “Sergeant Sava, you heard the man.”

  “Sir!” Sava barked. “I want everyone to form two lines. Keep it simple and let’s make this quick so you can go about your business.”

  Some of the villagers grumbled until they spotted armed soldiers moving to hem them in.

  Only one made the mistake of protesting aloud. “You can’t keep us like that! We have rights as free citizens.”

  Each step was deliberate, heavy and intimidating. Sava cracked his stick against his thigh. The man, middle aged and balding, jerked back. “We can discuss this further if you really think that’s a good idea?”

  Muted, the man submitted and went into line.

  Sava glared at the rest of the crowd. “Right. Anyone else?”

  Kastus couldn’t deny the effectiveness a man like Sava brought, though his methods often appeared harsh or unorthodox. No doubt Einos would disapprove. That was a concern Kastus didn’t have. The Baron was far away and he needed answers now. Satisfied the crowd was in line, he hurried to Thep.

  “I want Waern arrested immediately,” he said, so only the Captain heard. “This is all the proof we need.”

  “He might not come quietly. You saw the resistance he already showed. The man is as defiant as they come. More so than Deana.”

  “And what a pleasure it was seeing her finally crack,” Kastus admitted. “Sava has this under control. Let’s go.”

  “What of the fire?” Thep asked.

  Without looking back, Kastus answered. “Let it burn to the ground. I don’t want a trace of his taint left. Just ensure none of the other buildings suffer from it. We’ll never explain to the Baron how we allowed an entire village to burn down.”

  They slipped through the crowds, back to the building the Elders were sequestered in. Odd, the door was cracked open and no guards were present. Kastus and Thep drew their swords before cautiously entering. Deana was kneeling beside a wounded Nils. She dabbed an old cloth at the blood trickling down the right side of his face. Mugh paced, arms folded with one hand reaching up to his jaw. The worry on his face was evident. Alfar, the lone remaining guard lay on the floor. Kastus hoped he was merely unconscious. Waern was gone.

  “Where is he?” Kastus ground out through clenched teeth.

  Deana looked up, fright in her eyes. “Gone. Not long after you left a few armed men swarmed in. They overwhelmed your guards and escorted Waern away. We were warned not to follow or sound the alarm.”

  “Where are my guards? I had two men posted outside.” Thep was furious, but like any good commander, more concerned with his soldiers than the missing Elder.

  “I don’t know,” Deana said, shaking her head.

  “Dead for all we know,” Mugh puffed. “That or they helped him escape.”

  Kastus wondered if that was true. They’d been in Palis long enough to establish relationships. It was no stretch to imagine any of the low paid soldiers turning with the lure of extra gold. A quick head shake from Thep dismissed the thought. Loyalty was not a questionable matter.

  “We need to find him. He couldn’t have gotten far,” Kastus said.

  “Captain Thep! We spotted six riders heading south in a hurry,” a soldier announced upon entering. She was red faced and out of breath from running back.

  “Waern.”

  “It has to be,” Kastus seconded. Why is the bastard heading deeper into Fent? Surely he must realize his life is forfeit when he’s caught. The Constable didn’t like the development, for it suggested Waern was getting help from someone powerful and potentially close to the Baron. “I suggest we move up the timetable. We need to return to the castle now.”

  “I have a hundred soldiers, on foot. There is no way we arrive before him, if that is his destination,” Thep protested.

  Another dilemma Kastus didn’t need. Fortunately, Deana had come to her senses, abandoning the stern demeanor she’d worn during their first encounter. “I have horses in my private stables. Not enough for all of you, but perhaps to mount a squad.”

  “Thank you, Deana. Your horses will be returned and you will be repaid for them after our task is finished,” Kastus swore. “Thep, pick your best. They ride with me.”

  “We’re taking an awful chance on this,” Thep cautioned. He knew that Waern might be going south as a ruse, shooting off in another direction once he was positive chase had been given. If he did so, he would never be seen in Fent again.

  “What choice do we have? I want that man in my jail,” Kastus said. “His guilt is clear. This charade has gone on long enough.”

  “What of the rest of us?” Mugh demanded. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to debate the merits of your ignorance, Elder Mugh. Take comfort in knowing that Waern will pay for his crimes, as will any others he reveals during his questioning. Pray your name stays off his lips.”

  Deana rose, the bloody rag crumpled in her tiny fist. “I will ensure any who gave Waern aid will be rooted out. That man is a poison Palis does not need. You have my word, Constable.”

  For once, Kastus didn’t know what to say. He bowed out of respect and hurried out. They had a villain to catch.

  Elder Waern was in denial of a great many things. His life had been uncomplicated until Giles approached him one dark evening at the beginning of summer. The man spoke with a golden tongue, presenting an offer too rich to pass up. Waern had never been wealthy, toiling under his mediocre life for too long. It didn’t take much to entice him to abandon his principles and help Giles, however he asked.

  That’s where it went wrong. Waern had no way of knowing a F’talle was at work in the duchy. No way of knowing he was loosely connected to a scheme big enough to topple the entire world. He played along as any good servant would. Then Kastus and that irascible army company arrived. They destroyed his careful plans in less than a week, casting his life into ruin and misery.

  He’d known it was but a matter of time before the Constable’s investigation turned in his direction. His crimes demanded execution, and he very much wanted to live. So Waern concocted a diversion. Paid men took his transaction records and burned them, along with the warehouse full of illegal goods Giles funneled into other duchies. The merchant’s wrath would be severe, but Waern was willing to face that over a short rope.

  He and his handful of loyal servants now hurried south, deeper into a land in which he would soon be labelled an outlaw. Waern guessed none would suspect him of moving closer to the Baron, not when his crimes demanded he retreat to another duchy. It
was the only play he had. He judged the time it took for Kastus to correctly guess his plans was more than adequate to report back to Giles and slip away to the east where he remembered distant cousins lived.

  None of that reduced the fear building with every passing stride. The horses couldn’t run fast enough. He needed to put distance between them and Palis. Kastus was the relentless sort. A dedicated professional who took great pride in his job. He wouldn’t stop until Waern was in chains, or dead along the road.

  The road.

  “Bartus! We need to get off the road,” he shouted. “They’ll find our tracks and be upon us in no time.”

  “That will slow us down. We can’t take the risk.”

  Waern jabbed an unsteady finger at his captain. “Do as I say. They’ll hang you as well. Don’t forget that. Off the road, now.”

  Murder lingering in his dark eyes, Bartus whistled and led them across country, into the rough brush. It was going to be a long ride.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The Other Realm

  Darkness. Pure. Unadulterated. The yawning emptiness threatened to devour all she was. Lizette had never experienced such horror and prayed she never did again. If she survived. How she arrived here, in the center of a vast nothingness, was a blur. One moment she was watching Quinlan battle the F’talle. She vaguely remembered being grabbed, then a searing pain rippling through her entire body. The translation felt like hours but was less than a heartbeat.

  On her knees, Lizette was wracked with pain and coughing. Her lungs burned from the faint acidic aroma lingering on the stagnant air. It was humid. Overwhelming. Soreness forced her eyes shut. They felt strained, as if staring to long into the sun. Fear kept her from moving. A quiet whisper in the back of her mind suggested death was a better alternative.