by J D Bowens
Consus spoke up. "The Berserker Spell is specially designated for the priests, or children, of Nemoth: The Father of Shadows and Blood."
Altin looked up at Consus, putting his hat back on and covering his eye. "How do you know all that?"
Ewan raised a long arm to as if to answer. "Let me guess: you read it in a book."
Consus smiled at the witty answer. "Exactly, I read it from the History of Amarant by Julia Quinby."
Altin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought that book was banned by the Quintetta. How did you manage to find a copy?"
"Even we scholars have our secrets," he answered. Altin laughed as Ewan huffed at the remark.
Altin turned his attention back to the disfigured brög. "That still leaves much to answer. If indeed this is some ancient magic, how did the brög come upon it and what does this mean? I had been under the assumption that all divine magic had disappeared from the world two thousand years ago. All that remains is the arcane magic."
"Could they have discovered the spell from a book or something?" Kyran suggested.
Altin gave his eldest brother a disappointed look. "Magic doesn't work like that. When the gods vanished from the realm of men they took their divina magic with them. Even if the brögs did find a spell book, it would do them no good. They would have no source from which to draw their power."
"But you can still cast spells.” Altin gave an exasperated sigh in response.
Consus put his hand on Altin’s shoulder. "Yes, but that is a different kind of magic. Mages like Altin draw their power from the world around them. The Children of the Gods drew their magical power from Arden and Nemoth. Two different sources and two different magics: the arcana and the divina."
Ewan gave a chortled response. “I’ve never known brögs to read very much. Don't know what they'd do with a spell book anyway."
“They have their own language and means of communication,” Kyran said. “They are not stupid. You know that. I’m more concerned as to why they were here at all and why they have such a powerful spell. Did you hear what they said?”
Consus shrugged his shoulders. “It sounded as though they did not expect to be found.”
“It’s unlike them to be so covert. They usually just sneak over the mountains and attack the first thing they find. What were they hoping to accomplish?” Kyran stared at the corpse as though he expected an answer.
The brög began to convulse, and Altin leapt back with such sudden force that he nearly knocked over Consus.
Ewan cursed and pulled two more arrows from his quiver and fired them into the body of the wretched monster. "Just stay dead!"
"Hello," called a muffled voice from beneath the large corpse. "Is the fighting over now? Can someone get this smelly thing off me?" Consus breathed a sigh of relief; it was only Milo. The halfling must have been caught under the brög as he fell. Kyran and Ewan lifted the corpse of the brög and pulled the halfling out from underneath. The little man's clothes had several bloody stains and his sandy brown hair tangled with leaves and dirt. “You forgot me and left me under there!"
Kyran planted his hands on his hips. "No, you forgot to stay with the horses like you were supposed to. Did you even tie them down?"
"Of course, I tied them, just like Ewan showed me. Left, over, under, hook and right."
"Oh, stones no. It's left, over, under, left and hook. You can barely tie down your own boot straps," Ewan remarked.
"I can too. It's not fair that I never get to join in all the sneaky fun parts. I always have to stay with the horses," he complained.
"Well, you tend to get in trouble," Kyran said.
"That's not fair; the brög could smell me. He's not used to smelling halfling; we smell unique."
"You certainly do," Ewan said. Milo pulled a pine cone caught in his cloak and threw it at the woodsman who dodged it.
Kyran stepped between the two of them. "Enough of that. It's dark enough out here, and this spell we have won’t last forever. We'd best be on our way. We'll spend the night along the road and make our way to Normead in the morning. But first, we have to take the heads.”
Ewan pulled a hatchet from his belt. "Right then, you hold, and I'll chop. Promise I won't miss.” Ewan and Kyran walked over to the two bodies near the fire.
Consus stared at the magically disfigured brög corpse. "How fortunate of us. It's not every day that one witnesses an ancient spell. What do you think it means? You don't suppose that means that gods actually exist, do you?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Altin said. "Perhaps they do, and we just haven't known about it. Or this is just some other form of magic I am unfamiliar with."
“As I was fighting one of the brögs my sword began to glow with a blue light. You don’t suppose that was ancient magic, do you?”
“Really? That is interesting.” Altin removed his hat once more and opened his True Eye. Consus held his sword up before Altin’s eye as it gazed upon the blade. “I see nothing. No spells or enchantments of any sort. It appears you have an ordinary sword.” Perplexed, Consus placed his sword in its sheath. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the night eye spell that Altin had cast. Maybe that made him think the sword was blue. Altin moved beside the brög corpse. “Bring your sword here. An ordinary blade is just what we need to get the job done.”
Chapter 3
Synara Astar accompanied the Lady Zamari Grimhold down one of the many corridors in the Ivory Temple of Serun. There were five gods in the pantheon of the Quintetta: Dacos, god of humility and contentment; Serun, goddess of peace and purity; Rashnoc, the god of righteousness; Weiira, goddess of love and life; and Mara, goddess of joy. Each of the deities had temples in the Northern Kingdom. The gods were served by “Brothers” and the goddesses by “Sisters.” It was up to them to minister the people's prayers to the gods and collect tithes for the work of the temples.
Synara’s soft shoes hardly made a sound against the marble floors as she walked. Her white robes embroidered with a gold dove, the symbol of Serun, barely moved.
She glanced at Zamari, a light-skinned woman who appeared not past her thirty-fifth year; her golden hair pulled back in a tight bun. The black and gold dress about her and the jewelry adorned on her hands and wrists demonstrated her high status as the wife of Garus Grimhold. Her strides were confident.
We must look like an odd pair walking together. She pulled at a lock of her thick curly mess of red hair as she walked, shoulders hunched. I wish my hair could be as neat as Zamari’s. She was much younger than Zamari, barely a woman herself. She was of a far paler complexion and a thin frame. Stop judging yourself, Synara told her subconscious. Still, she looked again at Zamari.
Her countenance did not display it, but Synara could tell that the lady was tense. But with anger or concern? She wanted to ask Zamari if everything was alright or if she was concerned with the brögs. Perhaps it’s best not to ask.
They came to the end of the corridor, stepped through two open black iron doors, and out onto a cobblestone path. The night sky was cloudless and the stars provided much light to guide their way. A light breeze drifted across the ocean, leaving a faint scent of salt in the air. Synara began to walk a bit more slowly as they descended the hill from the temple, following the path that led them to their living quarters. As they walked in the night, several other priestesses passed them heading towards the Ivory Temple.
An elderly woman with a warm smile stopped and greeted them. “Hello Lady Grimhold, I had not expected you to be here. Will you be joining us for the evening meditation?”
Zamari Grimhold smiled in return. “Thank you, sister, but we will not. My counsel, Sister Synara, will be guiding me in prayer this evening.” Synara smiled as well though it was a lie.
"Surely you will be joining us for the Purification Ceremony for tonight?" the elder sister asked, a look of sincere concern on her wrinkled face. Not far from where they stood, Synara could see a line of men and boys carrying piles of wood up the hill. The Swords of Serun
- armed guards of the temple - oversaw their work and directed them.
"Of course," Zamari replied, "Synara and I would dare not miss such a holy ceremony."
“Then you should try to arrive early. You will be hard pressed to find a decent place to watch it from. May Serun be with you.” The priestesses bowed at each other and continued in their respective directions.
Synara looked back at the temple; it looked so beautiful in this moonlight. The Ivory Temple of Serun was built on Bandinar Mount, the highest point in the city of Denipoor. The temple was a large white cylindrical stone structure with a network of intertwined halls and corridors that led to large prayer rooms and offices. Five large towers were attached to the temple; their pointed roof tops thrust towards the sky. Atop the temple structure was a golden dome that glowed in the moonlight and reflected the stars. A large black marble statue rose from its center, an artist’s rendition of the goddess Serun - a young girl holding a white marble dove.
I hate that statue.
It was the only thing that she hated about the temple. The rest of the building was magnificent. She had never seen walls so smooth or a building that reflected the light of night in such manner. The girl and the dove were supposed to be a symbol of peace and purity, but Synara found it hypocritical. There was nothing peaceful or pure about the Sisters of Serun. They found fault in every believer and charged them to tithe to save their “purity.” If they did not, they were mocked and punished. Or sometimes worse.
The tithes were meant to feed the poor and hungry. But how many times had Synara found herself pouring thin soup from a golden ladle into a beggar's wooden bowl? It wasn’t as though the Sisters of Serun couldn’t afford meat.
It’s all a lie. She eyed the statue.
“Keep up,” Zamari snapped. Synara realized that she had fallen behind.
“Yes, m’lady. Sorry m’lady,” Synara squeaked. Angry, she is definitely upset.
The living quarters for the Sisters of Serun were smaller buildings also made of white stone. Though not as grand in design as the Ivory Temple, they were still by far some of the more beautiful structures in Denipoor. Synara and Zamari stepped under a grand arch and through the large open iron doors. They passed through the large foyer greeting more Sisters as they passed and turned down another long corridor.
Zamari opened the door to Synara’s chambers and stepped inside. Synara followed and closed the door behind her. Her quarters were spacious, more so than the other Sisters her age. There were no others in their eighteenth year that had such chamber, but because she had been requested as the private counsel to a wealthy noble woman, the elder Sisters of Serun were obligated to provide her with chambers more befitting of her station. They could not expect her to entertain the Lady Grimhold in a room not fit for servants.
Synara had been in this new station for a year but still felt uncomfortable as Zamari made herself at home. She reminded herself though that their relationship - regardless of how it appeared - was not as Lady and Spiritual Counsel; it was as Mistress and Apprentice.
The black oak floors were spotless and so well fitted they seemed to be of a single cut. Several ornate, colorful rugs with intricate woven designs of animals decorated the floor. A few portraits of long deceased priestesses hung from the walls around the room. Zamari passed in front of the cold fireplace in the opposite wall, stacks of wood beside it. She motioned her hand at the fireplace and flames roared to life.
“Check the wards on the door and fetch the Scrying Bowl,” Zamari said in a calm voice. She disappeared into the bedroom, adjoined to the living quarters.
Synara turned to the closed door. She made a few hand motions and whispered the required incantation. The door glowed softly with a red light before falling dim. “We are protected now, mistress.” The ward of silence would ensure that no one outside the room could hear their conversation.
Zamari emerged from the room, no longer wearing her gold and black dress or her jewelry but a crimson gown with black embroidery. The image of a dragon in flight decorated her chest. She sat down at the only table in the room and Synara could see that she was no longer tense.
Synara walked over to the cedar desk and retrieved a large silver bowl. She could see her own reflection in the polished metal as she carried it over and placed it in front of Zamari.
“Cast the messenger spell for me, child.”
“Yes, mistress,” Synara replied. Synara calmed herself and focused, placing her index finger on the rim of the bowl. She whispered the name of the person she wished to contact, “Mugra Grish.” She skated her finger along the rim of the bowl, circling it several times, whispering the name over and over.
Water began to rise from the bottom, and the reflection began to appear: an older brög with a chipped tusk and scarred face took shape.
"Brother Mugra," Zamari said to the brög face in the water. "How are you this night?”
“I am well, Sister Zamari. Nemoth bless you,” he said. His voice was shaky, and Synara could tell that something was wrong. Zamari must have sensed it as well as she wasted no more time with pleasantries.
“How have your warriors progressed in tracking the elves?" Mugra shifted uncomfortably. The muscles in his neck flexed and he cleared his throat before speaking.
"I fear I have, er, lost contact with my warriors," he stammered. "The elves discovered that they were being followed and killed five of my warriors. The elves were quick to retreat, and we were unable to follow them. I am sorry, Sister." Zamari appeared calm, but Synara had served her long enough to know otherwise.
"How is that possible? Did you not bless two of them with the spell I gave you?” Zamari questioned. “They should have been able to overpower them."
"Yes, I did as you instructed," he said. "But the elves caught them completely unaware." There was a long pause of silence before Mugra spoke again.
"You assured me that you would send only your finest warriors to follow the elves," said Zamari. "They were to be silent and untraceable. Their only responsibility was to follow the elves and recover the stone. How were your people so careless as to get caught?"
"I am not sure," he croaked. "When I last spoke to them, they reported that the elves seemed lost and confused. It may be that the elves came upon my men while retracing their steps."
"I grow so weary of your excuses Mugra. Ten brögs should be more than capable of handling two elf women.”
"These were not two normal elves my lady," Mugra replied.
"How do you mean?"
"One of the elves called down pillars of blue light upon my warriors. It swallowed them entirely and left little more than ashes." Zamari's posture became tense.
"Did you see this for yourself?" Zamari asked. "Or was this another story that your skilled warriors gave you to explain their failure?" The sarcasm dripped from her lips like venom.
"I saw it for myself," Mugra said, "through their eyes with a Sight Spell." Zamari was silent for several moments. "The one who called the blue light, I could sense something different. There was a power, deep and foreign magic. It is not the arcane powers the mages use. She is like us, Sister Zamari."
"I must apologize Mugra," Zamari said. "It appears that the failure is not yours - not entirely."
"What does this mean, sister?" Mugra asked.
"It means Arden, the God of Light, has returned," she said. "Are the remainder of your warriors close by? Can they track the elves down again?"
A nervous gulp and a heavy sigh preceded Mugra’s next statement. "I am afraid not, sister. They were killed by a group of human soldiers patrolling the area." There was a long pause of silence. "I think the elves would’ve gone to one of the human cities. The city of Normead is quite close to that area. Perhaps I could send a Seeing Spell." There was another long pause of silence before Zamari spoke again.
"Mugra, what does failure mean to you?" she asked. Her tone was calm and even. Synara knew that only meant Mugra should be terrified.
"Mistress,
please," he begged.
"You don't know? Then let me ask someone else," Zamari said. "Synara, please explain to Mugra what failure means. What are the consequences?"
"Death is only the beginning," Synara answered, reciting a portion of the Sanctification Prayer to Nemoth. "Failure is rewarded with an eternity of suffering, an eternity of pain, and an eternity of our worst fears."
"Thank you, Synara," said Zamari. "Perhaps you should think about what you are afraid of Mugra. Send me your acolyte, Garnoc."
"Yes, Mistress," he said. He bowed, and his image disappeared from the water in the bowl. Another brög appeared with a younger face and his head shaved except for his long top knot.
"Garnoc, I will be travelling to the Maerstone Keep. I expect to see you there. I am tired of failure, and I will no longer tolerate any excuses. We are so close to our goal. If we cannot subdue this world and free our Lord and Father, then we will spend an eternity in damnation. Do you understand this?"
"Yes sister," Garnoc said. "I will meet you at the keep. I will not fail you."
"No, not me. Do not fail Nemoth."
"What would you have me do with the elves, my lady?" Garnoc inquired.
"I shall have Synara see to it. We will see if Mugra's guess was correct. Hopefully, they do not suspect they are being watched by us. Be sure to kill Mugra before you leave."
Garnoc's reflection nodded. Zamari dipped her finger into the water dismissing the reflection and the spell. “What a surprise that is. I had not expected the elves to be of Arden.” There was tension in her voice as she spoke. “We must work quickly and keep our distance until the time is right. We will follow the elves from afar, or we risk exposing ourselves.”
“Have we not already exposed ourselves, Mistress?”
“Perhaps not. The brög have been known to raid that part of the Northern Kingdom on occassion. They will likely think of it as no more than a random encounter.”
“Are the elves what you saw in your dreams?” Synara dared to ask. “The one of great power you will use?”
“No, child. I do not think such a one has yet been awakened. But let this evening be a lesson to you. Foresight is everything Synara,” Zamari said. “Never trust that anyone will do anything right. Be prepared to do it all on your own.”