by Jena Rey
The maid left, and Tabor handed some of the bread, which was a dark color and spread with soft cheese, and a flagon of mead to Darian before he continued. “Well, there have been very rare times when one of the faithful has died in the actual presence of the Lich and has not been able to call on Osephetin’s grace. These fallen Brothers become the Corrupted. Their souls do not move on to Osephetin’s Halls, and their bodies become the worst of undead monsters. This is why we are sworn to take our own lives before allowing ourselves to be captured by the Lich’s minions. The Corrupted retain their skills and knowledge from life, bound to eternal servitude to the Lich’s whims. There is no rest for the Corrupted, only rage and blood as they slaughter those who are as they once were.”
“That’s horrific. Why…why is this the first time I’m being told about this?” Darian bit mechanically into the bread. Ordinarily, it would have been a delicious start to the morning. The bread was dense with a nutty taste and the cheese soft and salty, but after everything he’d just learned, it tasted flat, and he ate out of obligation rather than hunger. “There seems to be a lot about our foe that isn’t mentioned in our training.”
“That’s by design.” Tabor took a large swig of his mead, eating and drinking neatly though quickly. “Hunters, Commanders, and especially the Corrupted are exceedingly rare. I’ve been hunting the undead for over a decade, and this is only the third time I’ve encountered Hunters. I’ve only ever seen a Commander once, and a Corrupted at a distance as we ran like hell. The vast majority of your service will be against the garden variety of undead that roam the face of the world. There is no sense worrying about something you may never see, and once the thought is planted in your head, you’ll think you’re seeing worse monsters everywhere. So, you learn when you need to know. I’ve decided you need to know.”
Darian sighed and took another bite, ripping the crust from the bread and setting it aside to eat last. “I can see the argument, but right now I wish I’d known. I might have been better prepared.”
Tabor laughed, chasing a bite of bread with another swig. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I personally think the training should be expanded to cover all the possibilities that we are aware of, but I’m not in charge of training.”
Darian snorted. “As long as my head remains on my shoulders, I can keep serving Lord Osephetin properly, which is exactly why I’m going to complain to the training staff when we get home.” Darian let the conversation drop as the two men bent to the meal in earnest.
Ephema sat on the edge of a cot, far away enough from the bustle of the aid station to have some peace and quiet, but close enough to assist if there was an emergency. She was beyond exhausted, but still too wound up to sleep, though the Knights had insisted she try. She didn’t think Ianel would truly sit on her, but the teasing threat had been enough to get his point across. The kindly Bishop Lam had drafted her as soon as the wounded began coming in to wrap wounds and apply compresses, and while drifting between patients, she had healed everyone she could without being too obvious. It was difficult, but she was managing to keep the light of her healing magics hidden.
She sighed and scooted back so she could lean against the wall, drifting into a near doze until a figure took a seat next to her. It took several blinks for her eyes to focus enough to recognize the slight form of Bishop Lam. He held a tray on his lap that held a small bowl filled with something that smelled delicious.
“You should get some sleep, young lady. But I thought you might want something to eat first.”
Ephema nodded, pushing herself up right and accepting a chunk of bread and the bowl from the priest. The broth was thin with a few chunks of root vegetables floating in it, and the smell brought a grumble from her stomach. “Thank you.”
“You’ve earned it.” He paused, watching her eat before adding. “Young healer.”
She startled at the naming, the warm broth splashing up the side of the bowl. Ephema wiped her mouth with her sleeve, swallowing to clear her throat. It was one thing to show the Knights what she could do, but she was so certain she’d been careful around everyone else. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course, you do.” The man’s smile was gentle, and his voice quiet enough that no one else would overhear him. “I’m not fool enough not to know what the possibilities were inside that fire. Myself and my scribe should be dead. I know for a fact I should have savage burns on my leg. I remember a burning timber landed on it. I couldn’t stand. I thought it was broken.” He touched his leg, shaking his head before looking at her again. “In addition, you have your mother’s eyes, and your expression at this moment is just like hers when she was flustered. It’s amazing how things are passed among family.”
Ephema tightened her grip on the bowl, the ceramic solid and warm under her fingers. She took a deep breath before lifting it to her lips and drinking the broth down, leaving the chunks for last. It smelled better than it tasted, but it eased the gnawing in her stomach. “You met them when they left?”
He patted her knee before sitting back and beginning on his own scant meal. “I knew them before that even. I trained with your father before deciding the path of the priesthood was for me. When he came east, I traveled with him as a strong arm and spiritual advisor, though I remained here when he journeyed on. They were good people. I miss them both terribly. I wondered how long it would be before you followed in their footsteps.”
She lowered the bowl, setting it on her lap. “I just want to know if they’re still alive out there somewhere. They promised, but they never came back.”
“Merciful Osephetin. They didn’t tell you more than that?” Bishop Lam’s eyes were pained. “Osephetin’s blood, Anceil, you idiot. You left it to me to break this news?” He pushed the food away and took Ephema’s hands in his, sighing heavily. “There is no easy way to explain, but I can spare you a fruitless search. There never was much of a chance their quest was going to succeed. We all hoped it would, but… they were lost to us.”
Ephema closed her eyes and then opened them again, looking away from the priest. She’d suspected for a while that her parents weren’t coming back, but she’d clung to a shred of hope because she didn’t want to face the truth of being alone. “What happened?” She needed to know, but that wasn’t going to make it easier to hear.
Bishop Lam stood and paced to a low window, watching the people outside in silence. Finally, without turning around, he began. “Do you know what the Rite of Rebirth is?”
“No. I don’t.”
“I didn’t think so, but there was always a chance.” He sighed, bowing his head. She saw his eyes were closed, though he continued speaking. “I suppose I’m not entirely surprised that Anceil never told you what he and your mother were attempting to do. Disappointed, but not surprised. It was very dangerous and chances were slim they would succeed.” He turned and opened his eyes again, meeting Ephema’s gaze. “But you have the right to know.
“It started before your birth, Ephema. Your father, Knight Anceil, was one of our greatest knights and my closest friend. One summer, he returned to the High Temple from a mission from deep in the heart of the Dejected Lands far to the east. A man of deep devotion, Anceil asked for guidance as to his next assignment. One of the higher ranked bishops entered into meditation on Anceil’s behalf and received a vision from Osephetin. A vision that seemed so unbelievable he was reluctant to tell it. Three more times he appealed to the Dark Lord, and three times he dreamed the same dream.
“In the vision, the Dark One bade Anceil to find a living, sane Daughter of the Mother, a woman who could heal and who would undertake the Rite of Rebirth and bring peace to Lianna, the maddened Goddess of Life. It was hard to believe that this was Anceil’s calling as everyone knew the Daughters of the Mother no longer existed, and approaching the Sisters was a path of insanity and death. The Bishop had been given such firm direction and had been gifted with proven visions in the past, but it was so very hard to imagine the mess
age was true.
“But your father believed. I think he may have had dreams of his own that drove him, though I never asked. He never questioned, and I went with him when he rode away to follow the guidance he’d been given. We searched for close to two years with little success beyond hearing the occasional rumor and fighting the Sisters wherever we found them.
“When we reached Tallet, the Bishop here was on his deathbed, and there was no one to take his place. I’d taken a hip wound a few weeks earlier that made riding more and more difficult, and I felt compelled to stay and help the city. Your father understood, but he could not be stopped in his quest. It was three more years before I saw him again.”
He chuckled softly, the memory bringing warmth to his expression. “That’s when I first met you, Ephema, though you do not remember it. Anceil and Elaina arrived one afternoon out of the blue. They revealed that the Bishop’s vision was accurate. They had found each other and in doing so, they’d also found love in this forsaken land. Anceil held a tiny bundle in his powerful arms, proof he’d fallen in love twice. Your mother may have held his heart, but you, my dear child, were his joy.
“Anceil and Elaina visited often in those early days. They were a spark of light and hope to the Brethren, and they loved life and each other dearly, but your father was plagued with dreams and couldn’t rest. His oaths drove and tortured him and, once you’d come of an age where he thought you could be safe without them, they came to me. We discussed the Bishop’s vision again. Bringing peace to the Goddess of Life would radically alter life on this world and open the path to destroying the Lich. They felt it was worth the cost to try. They wanted a better world. For you.”
He sighed, the lines returning to his face. He looked older now. Tired. “We…have known about the Rite of Rebirth for a generation. It was discovered shortly after the Fall of the Gods, but until Elaina, there was never a hope of the Rite working. And even with your mother, as powerful as she was…” He shook his head. “Maybe we should have known better.
“But they both thought any chance, no matter how slight, made it worth risking everything. Because, as your father often reminded me, what if it worked?” Bishop Lam let out a soft breath, rubbing the tears from his cheeks. “Your father was nothing if not stubborn. I decided if I could not change their minds, it would be best if I accompanied them to the Eye of the Goddess, deep in the Southern Lands. That was the second hardest journey of my life.”
“Why?”
“Why?” His voice was soft. “Ephema, the priestess doesn’t survive the Rite of Rebirth. It demands a sacrifice to rejuvenate what was lost. I was journeying to witness the death of my best friend’s wife. Even if we won, we were going to lose.”
“No. That’s… That’s not possible. My mother wouldn’t have gone just to die. There had to be…” Ephema’s voice broke. “There had to be another way.”
Bishop Lam sighed deeply. “If she knew of one, she didn’t speak of it to me, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We had only just begun the Rite when the Lich attacked. Your father and four other Knights did all they could to hold off the waves of undead, and the lashing of the monster’s magic, but even with their skills, there were just so many foes. I saw your father call on the Dark Lord and bear the Lich to the ground, but no matter how they struck him - the undead king would not die. In the end, Anceil…” He paused, seeming unable to continue.
“What? What happened?” Ephema barely managed the words, the painting of her parents’ last moments horrific, tearing into her as though she was being struck.
“Your father wasn’t allowed to die. It would have been better if he had been. While he was focused on the Lich one of his followers got through Anceil’s guard and pinned him to the wall with a spear. As he strove to call on Osephetin’s grace the Lich did something. I don’t know what it was, but the thing that stepped away from that wall was no longer the man I knew. My best friend, your father, now walks the land in servitude as a Corrupted.”
“No.”
The Bishop continued as though he didn’t hear her agonized denial. “Your Mother was spared that, at least. The interruption of the Rite broke her mind. Incapacitated like that, she was an easy target. What few of us were left managed to escape, carrying her with us, but she succumbed to her wounds within a few hours. I think, perhaps, if Anceil had been there she would have survived, but without him to anchor her she slipped away. Coming home to report our failure, and the loss of my friends. To report that all hope was lost? That was the hardest journey in my life.”
Ephema felt the tears running down her cheeks, the remains of her meal forgotten, dripping onto the floor. She felt numb. These were all of her fears laid out before her, and worse. There wouldn’t be a happy homecoming. Not now. Not ever.
For a time, neither spoke, the silence stretching out painfully between them. Finally, in a small voice, she asked. “Why?”
“Hmm?” Bishop Lam recrossed the small space, sitting beside her and placing his hands over hers. “Why what, my dear?”
“My parents left five years ago. If they died then, why didn’t anyone come looking for me?” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I was little more than a child, left alone! Why didn’t anyone tell me what had happened? Why did I have to come here now to get answers?”
“I tried, Ephema, I really did.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of guilt. “Anceil told me he and your mother lived somewhere in the mountains above the town of Aserian, but he never told me exactly where. There was a geas placed on your home to protect it, so that no one could find it – or you – without having been shown the way. I looked for months, but I never found you.”
He frowned deeply. “I left instructions with the local Bishop, Cerenus, to take care of you if he saw you in town and give you instructions to contact me. When I didn’t hear from you, or him, I assumed the worst. I felt it was my penance to serve as long and as well as I could in Tallet in memory of my friends. When I first saw you in the temple garden, I was sure you were your mother in spirit, and I was dead.”
“Cerenus…died. The Aserian Temple has long been abandoned. We found his…body…there. He passed before he could tell me anything.”
“Oh. Oh my.” Bishop Lam suddenly pulled her into a gentle hug. The weave of his robes was coarse, but the gesture brought Ephema comfort. “I’m so, so sorry, Ephema. I had no idea.”
“It’s all right.” Ephema rubbed her fingers over her cheeks, drying her tears. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”
“That’s a question only you can answer. But, whatever you choose, I will support you in it.” He leaned back, smiling. “Though I think, if you can, the first thing to do is rest. Plans and questions will wait for a little longer.”
Ephema wasn’t sure how she would be able to sleep now, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
The funeral pyres of Tallet burned high for two days, thick black smoke competing with the blowing snow to block out the cloudy skies. The mood in the city was somber; the loss of so many of Osephetin’s faithful as well as the citizens and guardsmen had darkened the arrival of the season’s first snowfall, usually a celebrated event.
Bishop Lam and the newly-promoted Bishop Timmon guided the Rites, keeping Ianel, Tabor, and Darian busy from, as far as Darian could tell, the moment they woke until they collapsed. Finally, on the third day, the last deceased member of the populace was given rites, their flesh consumed by sanctified fire and the dust that remained given to the cemetery. As Darian sought his bed, he was grateful they could return to their journey south. He knew why they had remained, but the pressure to move on was always in the back of his mind.
The house of a deceased guard had been selected to lodge the visiting defenders. In the small room that he’d been loaned, Darian sat with his back to the wall, lightly napping with his mace across his lap and a large hand axe by his side. A knock came at his door, waking him. The knock was too soft to be either Tabor or Ianel; b
oth had a tendency to bang loudly and open the door as they were knocking. Darian looked up from his nap and yawned. “It’s open.”
The door swung open on heavy hinges, and Ephema peeked into the room with undisguised curiosity. In the last few days Darian hadn’t seen much of her, their assignments keeping them on opposite schedules in various parts of town. He was surprised at how happy he was to see her, then again, they’d been through more adventures in a week than many of the people he’d trained with. She offered him her little, crooked smile. “Did I wake you? I know it is early still.”
“It’s all right. I’ve had more sleep today than in the last few days.” He set the mace aside on the cot, stood and stretched. Ianel and Tabor had proper beds, two smaller ones lashed together in Tabor’s case, but Darian wasn’t about to complain about his cot. It was heaped high with blankets and far more comfortable than anywhere he’d stayed since leaving Hawthan. He eyed Ephema, noting the dark marks under her eyes. “You look like you should still be in bed, yourself. Bishop Lam is keeping you far too busy.”
A flush touched her cheeks, and she shrugged, not leaving his doorway, but he could see the tension leaving her body as they spoke. “There is so much need. People need help and a home and healing. Winter is on the doorstep and there is so much to fix. The library behind the temple did not burn as much. We have been cleaning it when there are not the hurting to care for. I have never seen so many books at once.”
“You should see the archives in the High Temple. My brother’s made it his life’s mission to read everything there, even though it’s going to take a dozen of his lifetimes to even make a dent.” Darian chuckled at the thought. He and Fressin were very different in personality and didn’t always get along, but he could appreciate his brother’s passion. Getting back with the scroll was the most important reason for returning to Hawthan, but Darian privately admitted he was looking forward to seeing his family. “The Knights and I will be leaving in the morning, Ephema. I spoke with Bishop Lam yesterday, at length. He was able to confirm that the scroll was the correct one, and urged us to get it back to Hawthan as quickly as possible. I’m sure Fressin will jump at the chance to work on it. If he can’t translate it, no one can.”