by B T Litell
“Dammit, Harold. That’s enough! I will not just ‘sit here and know my place,’ while the whole world could be destroyed. If I know an answer to one of Joshua’s questions, I’m going to answer it. You can remove me from the priesthood right now if you want. I will still stay here and help him through this issue. And that’s not because I’m being ‘insubordinate’ to your backwards authority. It’s because I value the countless lives on this planet that count on people like us to fulfill the oath we have taken and protect them from harm.” The priests in the room all looked taken aback by the words. Some clearly thought and wanted to say the same thing, but none had the courage to say what needed saying.
“I will not make this decision before I…”
“Have had time to think about it? That’s what you say about everything, and I have had enough of it! You no longer deserve the head priestship and should be removed from your post! You are running our order into the ground with your indecision, and I will not have it anymore,” Timothy cut off the old man.
“Enough! You are expelled from the Order immediately!” Harold shouted back. This took all the priests by surprise. There was a process for removing a priest, and this certainly didn’t fall into that process.
“There has to be a vote for that to happen!” one of the other Herons objected as he stood to defend Timothy.
“Thank you for standing up for me, Brother.”
“I could care less about whether you stay in the order, honestly. Giving that book to Joshua is just as damning as if you had cast the spells yourself. And how are we to know you hadn’t been casting the spells, feeding information to this Vor all along? But I agree with you that Harold has sat back and let the world fall to ruin while we do nothing about it. When was the last time a new priest has joined us? When was the last time a temple has opened? Since when have we…”
“Stop! If you want to change your Order, do so without me present. We have more pressing matters at the moment and your insolence is not going to get anyone closer to saving the world,” Joshua interrupted, getting the attention of all the priests in the room. “What I’m getting from that is that the Dwarves care not one iota about the surface races.”
A deep silence struck the room before anyone replied. Not one priest even coughed. They stared at each other, still taking in what had gone down before Joshua interrupted the argument. Clearly tensions among them were high, and no one could simply but aside the hostility. The harsh words. The truths that had been spoken. Several minutes passed before one of the priests finally leaned forward in his chair to answer Joshua’s statement.
“Correct. And they haven’t cared since they first discovered metal and gems were buried deep underground.”
“Let’s get back to the main questions I had to ask,” Joshua said, corralling the priests. “What purpose would there be in attacking Shemont or Anselin?”
“By kindling new hatred between the two cities, another war could break out. And with the Sorcerer’s College between the two cities, it could turn disastrous quickly, if not immediately. If another war involving Magic breaks out, the priesthood would have to get involved, and as you see, there are twelve priests to fight against untold legions of rogue Mages. We would lose the priesthood, and Madness could spread to the other continents. Perhaps that is the reality this Vor wishes to bring about,” Harold said.
“I believe, based on what I have been told by the two natives, that Michael’s dreams are showing Shemont, as Anselin doesn’t have a moat. Should we concentrate on saving Shemont or fighting the knight there, or should we split our focus between the two cities? If we prepare for an attack against the humans, and he attacks the Elves, we have done nothing to stop his mission of bringing chaos to Drendil, correct?” Joshua asked.
“There could be reason to stop in Anselin, but I believe your feelings of Shemont being his ultimate target are well placed. Were it me that was on this quest, I would start there until you get some evidence that says you must head to Anselin. None of us want any city in Drendil to fall, especially if, in so falling, a war is started. Should you split your efforts between two cities? I don’t believe that would be beneficial,” Timothy replied, sipping from his cup of tea. Tendrils of steam wafted toward his face as he drank.
“I agree. Splitting focus would simply leave part of your group too vulnerable against the Shadow Knight, a risk that must not be afforded. Have you conducted any of the tests for Michael to see if he can wield Magic?” Harold added. As he spoke, he glared at Timothy, though said nothing further toward their hostilities.
“He is only able to sense Magic at his best. His real gift is the premonitions, which are helpful enough on their own…” Joshua said, cutting off as he heard a distant sound like thunder and the ground started shaking.
The priests all left their study quickly and ran up the stairs to find the source of the noise and vibrations. Outside the temple, people ran in all directions, screaming, as hordes of goblins poured through the city streets, attacking anyone that was close enough to reach. Joshua and the other priests began casting spells, eliminating goblins as they could. Fire, lightning, gusts of air, and blasts of water shot in all directions, cutting down goblins by the dozens. Týr and Svenka, with Michael following closely behind, emerged from the inn, the two in front drawing their weapons as soon as they saw the goblins in the streets. Týr held a wickedly curved knife in his right hand and a short sword in his left. Svenka twirled two knives, the blades flashing in the remnants of sunlight that shone through the suddenly darkened sky.
Michael awkwardly drew his sword, assuming one of the stances he had learned aboard Queller, his feet slightly wide as they had been to accommodate for the movement of the ship. That was something he would have to adjust to for fighting on land. He moved, more fluidly through stances than Joshua expected, but it was still obvious he had only been using a sword for less than a month. Some of the goblins he attacked had deeper cuts from his sword, others showed more shallow markings. He would also have to learn consistency in striking, but Joshua knew he could focus on that later. Blades flashed, spells shot through the air, and goblins fell in all directions. Bodies piled up in the street and most belonged to what used to be goblins. Sadly, some of the others were the fallen citizens of Erith. Screams echoed through the city.
Three of the priests cast a spell toward the sky which parted some of the clouds. A circle broke through the solid curtain of darkness overhead, allowing some sunlight to shine in the city momentarily. A few moments after the spell had shot into the apparently impenetrable darkness overhead, the clouds closed in once more, shutting out the sunlight. The midday sun, now blocked out, left the world in midnight darkness. Still the group fought the goblins, dropping their sickly colored bodies throughout the small courtyard around the temple. Down the street Joshua heard more weapons clashing and, with a quick look, saw the city guards were also fighting the monstrous creatures. It’s hard to imagine that goblins were once tame beasts capable of thought, Joshua thought to himself as he struck down half a dozen of the monsters with lightning that arced between their bodies.
A bolt of lightning darker than the sky on a moonless night shot through the air, struck the temple and toppled the steeple. Carved stones fell to the street and smashed anything in their paths. One of the priests, as he pushed a goblin with a blast of air, crumpled beneath the weight of a large stone, which looked as if it easily weighed over a hundred kilograms. His body produced a stomach-churning crunch sound as the stone collided with the ground.
Within moments of the lightning strike, the Shadow Knight appeared within the circle formed by the remaining eleven priests, his sword flashing through the air, which brought down two priests. Joshua turned and a bolt of lightning left his hand. The sparks jumped through the air, connected with the dark robes that still remained motionless, jumped through the Shadow Knight into one of the priests beyond him, and sent the limp, felled priest’s body into the air.
The Shadow Knight tur
ned to Joshua, an orb of darkness forming in his hand. Dark lightning shot forth from his hand and danced through the air toward Joshua. Harold and one of the other Heron Priests, stepped between the Shadow Knight and Joshua and opened a portal in the air. The lightning shot through the portal and raced through the air overhead. The portal closed with the end of the lightning trail. A stream of fire shot from the Shadow Knight’s hand and another portal appeared with the same results. The Shadow Knight took a step forward and turned the blade his sword, which flashed in the remnants of sunlight. Harold and Joshua squared up against the Shadow Knight, spells at the ready. Flashes of lightning and fire shot toward both, portals opening to divert each of the wicked spells.
The black blade of the Shadow Knight’s sword flashed through the air, heading toward Harold. As the blade approached, Svenka jumped forward, her knives, their blades crossed, caught the dark blade in a fury of sparks; the sword bounced back, and Svenka yelped as one of her knives appeared to have melted. The blade had been severed less than a hand’s width from the hilt. Her left shoulder oozed red with fresh blood, and another spot appeared on her right calf, the end of an arrow sticking through the leg of her trousers. As the Shadow Knight struggled to regain control, Svenka lunged at him, her good blade moving quickly. Týr stopped, his sword stuck through a goblin’s head, shouted, and ran toward the group.
Svenka planted her knife, which she held in her left hand, firmly into the right shoulder of the Shadow Knight; as her blade sank into his flesh, the dark steel blade flashed through her right arm, the steel, or whatever the blade was actually made of, cut through the muscles in her arm and a resounding snap followed the cut as her muscle bounced away from the cut. Svenka screamed and clutched her arm as bright red blood gushed through her sleeve and fingers. The Shadow Knight clutched his shoulder, the knife still planted in his shoulder, a high-pitched shriek echoed through the plaza as he removed the blade and dropped it on the ground. The blood on the knife’s blade was a dark maroon. Drops of blood fell from the knife as it raced toward the cobblestones of the plaza. The knife landed on the ground and clattered as all sounds from the battle seemed to have stopped.
Týr lunged at the Shadow Knight, his blades readied. The short sword swung as he approached, and the fine blade closed in on the Shadow Knight’s back. As the blade touched the edge of the dark robes, a portal opened under the Shadow Knight’s feet and he disappeared, leaving on the sound of goblins racing through the city. Týr’s blade struck nothing but air since the portal closed the instant the Shadow Knight went through its rippling surface. Goblins that had been fighting furiously now stopped as fear washed over them.
The clouds departed in a matter of seconds and, with their leader gone, the goblins scattered like cockroaches under the uninhibited light of the sun. As the goblins ran, Joshua threw spells, killing a dozen of the creatures in a fury of lightning. The bolts of electricity jumped from one goblin to the next as the lightning made their muscles tense and fall over. Wispy tendrils of blue smoke rose from their bodies, now crumpled onto the cobblestone street.
Týr straddled Svenka, who now lay on the ground, writing in agony as she clutched her wounded arm. His hands firmly covered the wound in her arm as she wriggled under Týr’s weight; her agonized scream filled the courtyard and downed out the cries of fallen citizens, guards, and goblins. Joshua rushed over and held his hands over her arm and cast a spell. His hands glowed white, a slight green hue in the glow. Soon the blood stopped pouring between Týr’s fingers, and Svenka groaned as she fainted. Her head rolled onto the ground as the muscles in her neck relaxed. Sweat that had pooled on her face now rolled toward the ground and left tracks through the layer of dirt that covered her face. All the color that had been in her face vanished instantly and left her paler than a ghost, though her skin was opaquer than the tales of ghosts always portrayed them to be. Týr glanced up at Joshua, a bewildered look on his face, his eyes holding a thousand questions. And accusations he left unspoken.
“This wound looked nasty. Do you think she will live?” he asked, finally calmed down, wiping sweat from his face and neck.
“The healing spell I just used should stabilize her so we can get some proper healing done in the temple. If we can get that much done, she should recover just fine. I will recommend her to rest and drink plenty of water to help with the blood loss. Harold,” Joshua said, turning to the last standing Heron Priest, “we should gather the wounded in the temple.”
Harold stood in the plaza, only a couple feet from where he had been casting portals to stop the Shadow Knight’s attacks. He gazed at the remnants of the chaos. Bodies, and pieces of bodies, lay strewn throughout the street, blood pooled on the stones. Men, women, children, and goblins, those unlucky few that had lived through the attack, shrieked in agony. Michael stood in front of the inn, staring at the blood on the blade of his sword, a few cuts running up and down the outsides of his arms and legs. Svenka laid on the cobblestone street, her clothes soaked with blood. Týr stood over her, his hands dripped blood from having held Svenka’s arm. priests lay scattered throughout the courtyard, their bodies mangled by the Shadow Knight and his menacing spells.
“So much death. This is what you brought to this city, Joshua. Your spells and curiosity have brought destruction and torment to this peaceful city. A city that will never be the same again. Is this what you wished? Did you want my help under threat of attack? Do you think that offering to take care of the wounded would return you to my graces?” Harold was nearly yelling, his voice low and resolute. “You have ventured far from the oath you took.”
“My oath was to stand between innocent people and the forces of evil that haunt this continent. A land you have been overseen and allowed to slip into Madness. This Shadow Knight has gone unchecked and amassed an army of goblins to this scale while you and the Heron Order sat back and got fat, living comfortably within a city and its walls. If you ask for my opinion, Harold…” Joshua started.
“I do not require your opinion. I still believe that you have betrayed the priesthood and should be removed from the order. However, I am not a raven and cannot remove you,” Harold interjected.
“The weight of today is as much on your shoulders as it is on mine, Harold. We both know that. You cannot sit back and let evil grow then become angry when it knocks down your door,” Joshua growled, his knuckles popping as he spoke.
“Leave this city and never return. You are not welcome here,” Harold ordered.
“There are wounded to deal with. You can banish me once the wounded are taken care of.”
Harold inhaled deeply before he responded, “Fine. Let’s bring the wounded inside the temple and get them situated. I will prepare the temple; you gather the wounded. Start with the young lady, as she needs immediate attention. Get the others into the temple based on the severity of their wounds.”
Týr and Joshua lifted Svenka and carried her limp body into the temple. Michael stood, his feet not moved since the battle ended, watching them. Color had drained from his face, seeing the amount of death in the plaza. Once the priests and Týr had vanished inside the temple, Michael doubled over and emptied the stew and ale from his stomach. Týr returned shortly, a grim look on his face. Something was clearly wrong. Joshua left the temple shortly after Týr and started directing the other two to the wounded. Michael’s feet finally moved, reluctantly, though his face still had no color. Týr reassured Michael. He offered some wisdom to him that killing, and battles, were always like that at first, but that it would grow easier as they happened.
“Why is there so much hostility between you and that priest?” Týr asked, his voice strained.
“Because I am willing to cast spells they don’t like. And because of that, the Shadow Knight located us and attacked. Harold is the only surviving priest of his order, now. That’s a hard thing to face,” Joshua replied.
“Svenka and I know that feeling well. We were part of a group that was killed by a local lord who is now dead, by
her hands it turns out. While we were out of the camp, everyone else was killed. They were slaughtered, actually.”
“Life is going to get a lot rougher for us all, Týr. I cannot guarantee that any of us will survive this venture we have joined,” Joshua said.
Until the sun had journeyed beyond the wall and no longer shone its light on the world, the group assessed wounded from the battle, getting those with serious injuries to the temple, where Harold was treating and caring for the wounded. Svenka had not regained consciousness by the time Joshua, Michael, and Týr had finished gathering the wounded. Though her wound had been cared for, her pulse was rapid and shallow, and her breathing was sporadic. Joshua and Michael went back to the inn for some food, bringing some stew to Harold, who scoffed and refused to accept anything from Joshua. Michael left a bowl and some of the crusty bread for him, in case he changed his mind later. Týr remained at the temple with Svenka, well into the night after Michael and Joshua had returned to the inn. Before retiring for the night, Joshua made sure that Harold needed nothing else in the way of assistance. Again, the man scoffed and said he was fine…
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, as sunlight flooded the plaza by the temple and showed once more the horrors that had taken place the day before, Joshua and Michael went to the temple. Týr hadn’t left Svenka’s side all night, though she had never gained consciousness. Early in the morning, around the fourth bell, Harold had pronounced her dead, a proclamation that had stricken Týr with such bereavement. A likely cause, Harold had said, was a combination of an infection, from either the Shadow Knight’s sword or the goblin arrow, and the loss of blood she had suffered. Goblins were disgusting creatures, never known for their cleanliness. Týr sat beside her and stared at nothing, his gaze locked at some distant, unseen object. He clutched her hand firmly in his, not ready to leave the last connection to the only family he had known. Joshua was unsure, even at this point, if they were actually related although he knew a strong connection had existed between them.