Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  “It’s alright, William. No furniture broken. Feel free to search them for coinage to pay for the cleanup and the delousing. Oh, and here,” David said, flipping the silver to the boy. “That’s for Laudabacker’s stout.”

  The boy caught the coin, and then looked towards the two unconscious forms lying in the middle of the formerly pristine dining room. His nose wrinkled at the thought of having the touch them.

  David opened the door, ready for another attack, but none came. It was fortunate, as David had to squint as the midday sun assaulted his unaccustomed eyes. He stepped out of the inn and held his hand up in front of his face, blocking as much of the light as he could.

  “Ah, my boy, you’re uninjured,” said Captain Laudabacker.

  David swung around and put his knife to the captain’s throat. “Damn you to the deepest circle of hell, Laudabacker! I ought to poke your good eye out for sending your goons at me!” David spat in anger.

  “Gaeceric’s orders, not mine. Orders I urged him to reconsider,” Laudabacker said, glancing down at David’s dagger. “Consider yourself lucky to be unharmed.”

  “Consider your men lucky that I left them alive!”

  “Oy! You there! Get that knife away from that man’s throat before I throw you in the jail for a month!”

  David glanced to his side, seeing three of the town watch, swords drawn. He slowly replaced his dagger in its sheath.

  “Well, go on,” said the head watchman. “Get out of here! Leave that man alone!”

  David’s anger began to recede as he walked back out into the street, heading down the slight grade of the hill that led down to the harbor.

  “It would still be best for you to leave Karinga’s ship, Tanner,” Laudabacker called after him.

  “And it would be best for you to leave the bloody guild!” David hollered back.

  Captain Laudabacker shook his head as David made his way back to the docks. “What a waste.”

  * * * * * *

  This was it. It was time for the Test of the Angelic Blade.

  Gabriel sat on a wooden bench outside the Tribunal room, four servants and five other high initiates present. For seven years they had prepared themselves for this day. The outcome of today would mean either the honor of being a full Knight, or the disgrace of being exiled to Coldar’s Springs. Gabriel wondered what it meant to serve the order in Coldar’s Springs. No one ever spoke of it, or what ultimately became of The Fallen, as those who were rejected were so called.

  “I wish they would get a move on,” Demetrius said. “The anticipation is making me want to explode!”

  “Two Knights have come in from Ulster,” said Barnabas, another of the initiates soon to be tested.

  As was the custom, when a Knight of the Order of the Holy Defenders returned to Avonshire after being out in the world, they immediately had to grasp the hilt of the Angelic Blade. While these subsequent testings were said to be less traumatic than an initiate’s first, they were no less important, as a fallen Defender could act as an infiltrator for those who wished to do the order harm.

  They had been waiting outside the Tribunal room for an hour. Their testing was to begin at sunset, however the previous group had gone long, then the council had been delayed further by the return of the other two Knights.

  Gabriel shifted on the hard bench. He was thankful that this test required no ceremonial armor, as sitting upon the stiff wood was uncomfortable enough.

  The waiting area outside of the Tribunal room was the same cold stone that most of the Hall of the Defenders’ interiors seemed to consist of, with no decorations of any kind, save the four benches. The voices from the other side of the double doors were muffled, far beyond the ability of even the most determined spy to hear what was occurring on the other side.

  The Order guarded its secrets surrounding the Angelic Blade as closely as an embezzling banker guarded his true ledger. Two guards were posted outside of the Tribunal room at all times when the council was in session. The chamber itself was almost soundproof, except for the doors, but they had been doubly padded in order to distort anything spoken inside.

  Jonathan paced back and forth in front of Gabriel. He had been in constant prayer since his Test of Knowledge two days before, and practically also since his Test of Combat the day before that.

  Time moved by slowly as the six initiates continued to wait. The small candle lanterns swung ever so slightly back and forth as the cool evening breeze blew through the many windows in the waiting area. It had started raining the day before, and the rain had continued until midday this day, giving the otherwise hot month of Summerlight a respite with an unseasonably cool evening. Still, several of the initiates were sweating. This was the least demanding, yet most difficult test of all.

  Finally, the door opened.

  The initiates all jumped to their feet, Demetrius shaking his leg, which had fallen asleep.

  A Defender, hair and beard white with age, yet his face chiseled with wisdom and his eyes filled with strength, strode out of the room. “High Initiates of the Order of the Holy Defenders, I bid you enter.”

  One by one they entered the chamber, the old Knight saying “God be with you” to each of them in turn. Gabriel was the last to enter.

  “God be with you,” the Knight said.

  “And also with you,” replied Gabriel.

  The old man smiled. Gabriel had been the only one to reply to him.

  The decorations of the large testing chamber cut a stark contrast with the waiting area outside. Paintings of all past Templar Majoris’ lined the walls in chronological order, going all the way back to Brother Michael, the founder of the order. Gabriel wished he had the time to walk through the chamber and examine the pictures and all of the artifacts that were stored in glass boxes along the walls.

  Along the eastern wall of the chamber was a long table, set in front of seven thrones. In the smaller chairs were six of the Council of Twelve, three on each side of a larger throne, which was occupied by the Templar Majoris himself.

  Across from the council members there were six smaller, padded chairs. Between them, on a white pedestal, sat a sword of the purest silver in color, hilt of the finest gold. The sword emanated a soft, blue light that pulsed rhythmically with what seemed to be the beating of Gabriel’s heart. It was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld. A rush of tingles crossed every inch of Gabriel’s skin as he gazed upon the Angelic Blade. He so wanted to touch it.

  Two Knights stood before the Templar Majoris. They saluted and walked out of the room.

  The older Knight bolted the door behind them. He then bade the initiates to sit in the order they entered the room. Gabriel sat on the end, the closest to the doors.

  The Templar Majoris, a man in his late forties, Gabriel suspected, stood. “Initiates, what you are about to experience is the deepest secret The Order holds. Never, upon your word bond, will what occurs within these walls be spoken of outside. Not to friends, not to family, not to clergy, and not to each other. Only with another Knight may you speak of what transpires. If you agree to this, respond by saying ‘so shall it be’.”

  “So shall it be,” replied the six initiates in unison.

  “Initiates, I present to you the Angelic Blade. It is a sword forged not within our world, but given to our founder, Brother Michael, by the Archangel Uriel himself. With this blade, he defeated the forces of Hell itself, and stopped the Rain of Fire.

  “Brother Jonathan, please stand,” said the Templar Majoris.

  Jonathan, seated in the first chair, stood. Sweat dribbled down his face, although he was reluctant to wipe it. Instead, he tried to blink it out of his stinging eyes.

  “Brother Jonathan, is it your wish to become a full knight in The Order? To follow the tenants of The Church, the Articles Of Faith, and the Word of God from this day forward until the Lord calls you home? If so, reply
by saying ‘I so do’.”

  “I so do,” replied Jonathan.

  “Brother Jonathan, take up the Angelic Blade.”

  Jonathan wiped the sweat off of his brow. Slowly, he stepped up to the pedestal. His hands shaking, he grasped the blade with both hands and held it up before him. For a brief moment, his eyes went blank as he stared off into space. Suddenly the sound of searing flesh echoed through the chamber. Jonathan’s eyes opened wide in terror as he screamed at the top of his lungs. The Angelic Blade began to glow a stronger shade of blue, no longer pulsing. He dropped the blade upon the ground, the metal clattering as it struck the stone floor.

  Jonathan fell to his knees and wept as he looked upon a spiral brand overlaying a branded cross on his right hand. He had failed. His anguished sobs caused the other five initiates to sink back into their chairs, wondering if the same fate was to befall them.

  “Brother Jonathan,” said the Templar Majoris. “You have been judged, and your spirit has been found lacking. You have fallen by the wayside. In the morning, you shall leave for Coldar’s Springs, where you will possibly spend the rest of your days contemplating your failure.”

  Gabriel was stunned. All that work Jonathan had done, all for nothing.

  “Brother Kent, please escort Brother Jonathan outside.”

  “Yes, sir!” the old Knight said as he saluted. He strode across the room, picked up the Angelic Blade, and placed it back upon the pedestal. “Come on, lad,” he said to Jonathan, grabbing one of his arms and slinging it over his shoulder. He lifted the sobbing Fallen Templar to his feet and helped him out of the room. After a moment, he came back in and once again bolted the door.

  Brother Cathal, the council member seated to the Templar Majoris’ right, addressed the remaining five horrified initiates with his thick Ulsterian accent. “Brothers, do not allow your heart to be troubled over what has just transpired. The Angelic Blade tests the heart, not the outward appearance of a Holy Defender.” He glanced over to Demetrius, who was raising his hand. “Yes, Brother Demetrius?”

  “Are you saying that all of Brother Jonathan’s… well, holiness… was just a farce?” Demetrius asked.

  “A farce, an attempted deception, I cannot say.” Brother Cathal sat back in his chair as the Templar Majoris rose again.

  “Brother Demetrius, please stand.”

  Nervously, Brother Demetrius rose to his feet.

  Gabriel sank in his chair as the ritual continued. Jonathan; he still couldn’t believe it. Since his second year, he had been Gabriel’s friend when they were brought together with Demetrius under Tobias’ tutelage. Throughout their training, no matter what the situations or punishments, no matter how often Gabriel or Demetrius had grumbled or complained, Jonathan had always bore his circumstances with stoic dignity, never once uttering a contrary word. He found joy in the mundane, and peace in service. If anyone would have passed the Test of the Angelic Blade, thought Gabriel, it should have been Jonathan.

  However, he had been rejected. He bore a brand of shame on his hand, which he would have to carry the length of his days, a constant reminder of his failure. Tomorrow, instead of the Induction Mass, Jonathan would be joining the caravan to Coldar’s Springs where he would perform his penance, whatever that might be. Truth be told, no one ever spoke of what became of the Fallen.

  He came out of his thoughts as Demetrius hesitantly took up the Angelic blade. An instant of blankness crossed his face, and then he took a deep gasp of air. His eyes rolled upward as he dropped the sword, and Demetrius fell backwards unconscious.

  The four remaining initiates leaned forward in their chairs, craning their necks to better see what had just transpired, but none daring to stand.

  The seven councilmen stood, several grinning. “Brother Demetrius has been judged and found worthy. Tomorrow, he shall attend the Induction Mass and become a full Knight of the Order!

  “Brother Kent, please take Brother Demetrius outside so he may be returned to his quarters. Inform the servants to assign a junker to watch over him as he sleeps and to rouse him before Mass.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brother Kent replied. After replacing the Angelic Blade to the pedestal, he scooped up Demetrius in his sinewy arms, slung him over one shoulder, and carried him to the door.

  Gabriel offered up a silent prayer of thanks for Demetrius’ success. He also prayed that he had sustained no injury, as when he fell, he had struck his head fairly hard on the stone floor.

  The next two initiates were accepted, both passing out onto the stone floor, and both having to be carried out by Brother Kent. Simon, the initiate before him, was rejected, receiving the brand of failure upon his hand. During the entire testing time, Gabriel felt like his insides were going to explode with anxiety. He wanted to get his testing over with, yet he was terrified of what would transpire.

  Finally, the Templar Majoris spoke the words he both longed and dreaded to hear. “Brother Gabriel, please stand.”

  A sudden surge of peace and confidence filled him as he rose to his feet. He held his head high in front of the council members. If he was to fail this final test, let it not be for cowardice.

  “Brother Gabriel, is it your wish to become a full knight in The Order? To follow the tenants of The Church, the Articles Of Faith, and the Word of God from this day forward until the Lord calls you home? If so, reply by saying ‘I so do’.”

  “I so do!” replied Gabriel.

  “Brother Gabriel, before you take up the Angelic Blade, I wanted to inform you that we were all very pleased with your previous tests. Of all initiates being raised to Knighthood this year, your Test of Combat score was the highest, far outpacing the second placed. Also, you were second in the Test of Knowledge, missing the first spot by a mere two points. It is rare indeed that an initiate scores so highly in both tests.”

  Gabriel was speechless. While he suspected he had done exceedingly well on the Test of Combat, he was sure he had barely squeaked past in the Test of Knowledge. He made a mental note to once again thank Eleenia for her help.

  “Brother Gabriel, take up the Angelic Blade.”

  Gabriel stepped forward boldly to the pedestal. The beautiful sword was displayed before him, once again almost hypnotizing him with its power. Gingerly, he picked up the blade and held it before him. It felt warm in his hands, almost alive. Tingles moved from his hands, up his arms, and then flushed his body with blessed heat that caused him to relax deeply.

  Gabriel looked around the room. Time began to slow, literally, as the movements of the seven council members came to a halt. A light, more pure than the sun, beamed down from above to fill the room. The radiance was such pure white, that it made the white of his tunic look dingy gray in comparison. However, instead of illuminating the room, the light dimmed it. The figures before him seemed somehow less real. Even his own body took on the look of a wispy shadow before the untainted supernatural glow that filled the room.

  Before him, the light began to swirl, pulling in what looked like glowing orbs of blue energy from around the room, further bathing him in the otherworldly illuminations. The light began to focus, and before him stood the most beautiful man Gabriel’s eyes had beheld. He was at least six and a half feet tall, broad at the shoulders, with hair of radiant gold. He wore a robe of the purest white, and feathered wings hung outstretched from his back. The man gazed upon Gabriel with a look of serenity.

  Gabriel immediately fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the heavenly figure, averting his eyes in shame for the filthy taint of his sin that had suddenly become so evident to him.

  The man’s voice boomed as he spoke. “Do not worship me, Gabriel Ki Kalendeen! We are both servants of the One who sent me, He Who is most holy, who reigns forever and ever, Whose name is exalted above all creation. Stand, Gabriel!”

  Gabriel rose to his feet. He suddenly realized he was no longer holding the Angelic Blade, and he looked around to see if h
e dropped it. However, he saw that he was standing beside his own body, which stood holding the blade before it.

  “Yes,” the man’s voice thundered. “You are in the spirit. Concern yourself not for the things around you, only the matter at hand.”

  Gabriel looked down at himself. Although he was in the spirit, he still appeared to be wearing the same clothes he had worn while in the flesh. He held out his left hand before him. It appeared more real to him than his body, or the other earthly matter within the room.

  He quickly tried to focus himself. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I am the Archangel Uriel! He who stood guard over the Gate of Eden! He who watches over thunder and terror! I am the Angel of Repentance! The guardian of the north! And the heavenly guide of your order.”

  “Sir,” Gabriel replied, “What would you have of me?”

  “The Spirit has looked into your heart and found you suitable to bear the title of a Knight in the Order of the Holy Defenders! You have been selected for a great service to the world, although the choice is yours whether to accept your quest.”

  “Sir, I shall do anything required of me!”

  The Archangel smiled, speaking in a softer tone. “Good. Tomorrow, after the Induction Mass, go into the city to start your quest.”

  “Sir, what must I do?” Gabriel replied.

  “You shall know what to do when your task is set upon you. Listen to the messages given to you, Gabriel Ki Kalendeen. Heed well what the messengers say. Remember the tenants of The Order, and submit to the Will of God.

  “For others,” the Archangel continued, “I show them their true selves. What they hide, what they pretend to be, and their most deeply held secrets, are exposed by the light of the showing. However, this would interfere with your quest, as it takes time from which to recover.”

  The Archangel began to speak in his thunderous voice once more as the heavenly light about the room began to fade. “Remember, Gabriel Ki Kalendeen! Tomorrow, after the Induction Mass, go into the city! You shall know what to do!”

  “Wait!” Gabriel cried. “I have so much more to ask you!”

  But it was too late, the Archangel had gone, and Gabriel was left standing before the council again, holding the Angelic Blade before him. The icy filth that was reality hit him like a wave, the serenity he had felt while being in the spirit destroyed by the taint of a fallen world. He was tempted to weep at the loss, but the only ones who had wept before were those had failed their test, so he did his best to compose himself.