Ugoth ducked and laughed. “Better set the next target further off,” he said.
Soldiers rushed by to beat out the fires.
The witch laughed in glee from on the ground. “Did you see that!” she shouted. “It blew up!” Her partner nodded, grinning widely.
“Try again. Set up another target pile,” Herfod directed. He glowered at the monk. “This time, I’m not poking you in the back. Get it right. It’s you! Not her!”
“Yes, Brother Herfod.” The monk rushed off to find what he could for the next target.
Herfod heard a groan and looked behind. Vehre was on his back, apparently unable to rise. “Are you injured?” Herfod asked, squatting down at his side.
“No! It’s just an old ache that bothers me!” the abbot snarled.
“An ache? That’s more than an ache,” Herfod muttered, eyeing his hip wisely. “Haven’t your people been able to heal it?”
“Not this one,” Vehre said. “They’ve tried enough.”
“How did you get this ache?”
Vehre scowled rather than responding.
“How?” Herfod snapped.
“I kicked a dog that got in my way,” the abbot admitted testily.
“How the hells did you get to be an abbot?” Ugoth demanded. “You have very little patience.”
Vehre’s skin acquired a red flush. “We needed a tough abbot. Marun frightened the old one to death.”
“And now the gods punish you for your impatience? Isn’t that right, Vehre?” Herfod said scathingly.
Vehre glowered with unmitigated obstinacy. “Just help me up!” he spat.
Herfod shook his head in negation. “I’ll just give the healing chant a go, shall I?”
“No! Not you!” Vehre refused.
With a wicked leer, Herfod started the chant in any case.
“No!” Vehre shouted. “Keep your hands off me, vile creature! Perversion! Wickedness!”
Almost laughing the rote words, Herfod touched him. What had commenced as a joke for Herfod abruptly became something quite different, something astounding and momentous. A wash of violent azure shot over his body. It spun down his figure and into the old man. Vehre arched off the ground. His mouth opened in what seemed agony. The Carmet monks present rushed closer to watch.
“He’s being blessed!” one cried.
“He’s getting younger!” another shouted.
“Look! He’s in rapture!” said a third, and he was likely correct, because the agonized expression did not occur in conjunction with any sort of pain-filled exclamation.
The terrible light broke off. Herfod, all his fiery hairs on end, pulled his hand off. “Well, now!” he said and fell on his butt, suddenly very dizzy.
“What the hells did you do that for?” Ugoth shouted. “You rutting bastard! You don’t give rapture to anyone but me!” He hauled his weakened lover up and shook him furiously.
“Ugoth!” Samel cried. He thrust witnesses aside and forced Ugoth to release the dazed man. Herfod tumbled back down. Samel knelt at his side. “Herfod?” he asked worriedly.
“You fiend!” Vehre bellowed in surprise. “You healed my hipbone!” He sat up and stared at the purported fiend, only Vehre looked rather younger than before. His beard was dark again, and he had hair on his once-bald pate.
“Abbot Vehre! You received a major blessing! He can’t be a fiend!” one of his juniors, who now looked older, cried.
“What?” Vehre shouted. He paused in surprise. His voice sounded smoother. He lifted his hands. They were younger! “What? That’s impossible! He’s a vile abomination!”
“Shut up!” Samel shouted. No longer feeling at all equable, he lurched up and screamed his wrath. “Idiot! Fool! Stupid whelp of a demon sow!”
“Samel!” Herfod protested. “Be calm! Let him be an idiot. I don’t care.”
“I don’t want him to be an idiot!” Samel shouted, redder than an apple. “The gods just up and told him to wake up, and if he doesn’t, I’m going to kill him myself!” Apparently not patient enough to wait for this condition, he pulled his mace out of its sling and went after the abbot. Vehre scuttled away hurriedly. Samel’s mace thudded on the ground just where he’d been. The Carmet holy brothers jumped on Samel and wrestled him down to his knees.
“Don’t kill him, Brother Samel!” one cried. “He just had a major blessing! Don’t waste it!”
“It’s already wasted! He’s an idiot!” Samel roared. “Come back here so I can kill you!” he screamed at Vehre. He jerked in surprise. Blue flashed over him. The monks holding him leapt off, all but Brother Herfod, who finished the chant he’d started. Samel turned his head to stare at him. The glow faded, and Herfod released his shoulders.
“Why did you do that?” Samel asked with his typical mildness.
Herfod gave a concerned explanation. “You should have seen your face, Samel. It was completely red. I thought you were going to have a seizure.”
“Oh. Well, I was perfectly under control,” Samel said placidly. Then he grinned and started laughing. Herfod smiled weakly, lowering to his knees next to his mentor.
“You had me scared,” he said, shaking visibly. “I swear you had me very scared.”
“I saw the angel again,” Samel blurted, ignoring Herfod’s anxiety. “Isn’t that interesting? He’s paying a lot of attention to you.”
“Heh? The veils between heaven and here are extraordinarily thin these days,” Herfod said.
A set of brown boots and a brown hem settled near them. “What’s this? An angel?” Vehre barked. “Did you see a god, Samel?”
“I did,” Samel affirmed. “While healing Brother Herfod a few days back. It was a beautiful vision. And I just did again. He’s watching over Herfod and Ugoth.”
Vehre bristled: his lips thinned; his chest puffed; his fingers squeezed into fists. Samel knew it for envy, smiled at the abbot and laughed. “Don’t you want to kill me anymore?” Vehre said.
“No. You go ahead and be an idiot. Obviously the gods thought you might be useful despite it.”
“I was thinking that,” Herfod said. He’d been squinting at the Carmet abbot intently. “I seem to recall you cast aura balls rather quickly and strongly. How do you pray for them?”
“Like everyone else, although I’ve found I can shorten the chant somewhat.”
“More than somewhat.” Herfod lifted to his feet and offered a hand down to Samel, secretly feeling he should be the one getting a hand up. He felt so damned weak! What the hells had he just done?
Samel rose, smiled contentedly and wandered off to pray to the angel. Vehre stared after him resentfully. He turned back to find the red-haired monk still observing him closely. The king was at Herfod’s side, and the cold intent before the major healing had become a definite volcanic threat, but Ugoth directed it at the Turamen miracle worker.
“Why’d you do that?” Ugoth snarled at the young monk.
“I don’t know. Makes a cruddy good joke on me, doesn’t it? I hate him.”
“You shit!” Ugoth said.
“Get off with you, you jealous bastard!” Herfod replied. “There was nothing sexual involved. It was just … a major blessing.” Maybe.
Vehre’s skin flushed red as a roast pig. “What are you both on about?” he said apprehensively. “What has this blessing to do with your perversions?”
Herfod grinned nastily. Ugoth scowled and put a hand on his sword hilt.
Vehre glowered, but didn’t back off. “Well?” he pressed.
Herfod turned. “Hi, now, Thali! Throw a curse at Ugoth for me!”
“What? You’re going to get me in trouble!” the witch protested.
“Oh, come on!” Herfod said. “It’s me asking. Do you think I would ask if I thought it would hurt him?”
“Fine!” She pointed and cursed the king. He erupted blue instantly.
Vehre started. The king’s entire body was washed with a protective ward. Ugoth stepped away from them. The ward went with him. “Is t
hat a moving ward?” Vehre said in astonishment. “You must have it fixed on his chain mail.”
“It’s not,” Ugoth said.
“The sword?”
“It’s on me.”
“On you?”
“Yes,” Ugoth affirmed. “And don’t ask how to do it. It has something to do with our perversions, you stupid bastard.” He stalked off, but suddenly about faced and stomped back. The radiance flickered out just as he arrived. “Keep your hands off what’s mine!” he hissed at the abbot. Then he was off again.
Herfod sighed heavily. Apparently Ugoth didn’t believe the gift of healing had been as simple as a major blessing. Herfod really didn’t believe it either. What the hells had he done?
Vehre gaped after the king. After a second, his confused regard returned to Brother Herfod. He froze. Herfod peered impassively at him, only it seemed there was a glow in his eyes. Vehre blinked. When his eyes reopened, the otherworldly glow had vanished. “What in the name of all the heavens are you?” Vehre demanded. “You just had an unholy glow in your eyes!”
“Ask the gods!” the fiend snapped. “Let me know what they tell you. Abbot Anselm would like to hear any answers you get.” Herfod turned his head. “Thali?”
The witch moved closer. “What now? You want me to curse this one too?”
“No. I want a test run with him as your partner.”
“What? Me?” Vehre barked. He frowned at the witch. A plump mature woman, she lifted an unimpressed brow at him.
“Get over here!” Herfod directed Vehre. “Do an aura chant. Do it with her holding your other hand. You can be the tosser in this test.”
“What’s the target?” Thali asked.
“Use that old barn there,” Herfod said. “Make sure no one is in it first.” Thali jogged off to see about the target.
“I am the abbot,” Vehre protested. “I don’t team up with witches, white or not.”
“You are the most powerful chanter of holy fire I have ever met,” Herfod snapped. “You shut your mouth and do as I say or I send you out of here.”
Vehre glowered, but shut up. He was curious as to what he could accomplish with the white witch in any case. He looked at the sagging structure and curiosity opened his mouth again. “Why the barn?”
“Like I said, you chant a powerful aura ball,” Herfod replied. “Brother Jenson is better at illumination chants, but they aren’t as far reaching.”
Vehre didn’t think this explanation was sufficient. He could as easily toss an aura ball at a pile of sticks rather than the barn, but he said nothing and waited on the arrival of the white witch. Presently Thali trotted back.
“All cleared out. The rest of them are moving off from the target area now.”
Herfod nodded. He watched the spectators and soldiers on fire duty rush away from the decrepit barn. Once satisfied, he signalled to the pair to begin. Mockingly, Thali offered her right hand to the abbot. Vehre snatched it with his left and began the chant. A blue ball quickly formed in his free hand. It was easily twice the size of his head.
“Now!” Vehre shouted. He threw the orb, and Thali cursed fire on the barn. The missile whizzed toward the target and thudded into the side. The azure energy seemed to fizzle out with little more effect than to break an old board, but then the entire barn exploded into a huge purple fireball.
People ran shouting in fear. Herfod marvelled as the dramatic results engulfed the space around the barn. He’d expected this, but not quite this. Then he noticed the results were roiling their way. Vehre was staring in blank awe. Herfod grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back. To Vehre’s other side, Thali was already running. The inferno thundered toward them, halted mere yards away, then collapsed over the barn. Air whooshed away, taking their breaths with it. Halting, they looked behind in utter astonishment.
Where the barn had been, there lay nothing but burning cinders. A black field surrounded the destroyed structure, and the grass further out was riddled with small spot fires. Herfod looked around hurriedly. No one had been hurt. He darted toward the combusting grasses.
“Douse the grass fires!” he shouted. “Get on it! All of you!”
He threw his katana aside and pulled his habit off after. He smothered the nearest blaze with the woolen garment. The king raced past and started on another with his cloak. Soldiers rushed in from all directions, setting their cloaks and fire blankets over the spot fires, thrashing and stomping them out. And while this all occurred, Vehre gawped at the black costume the monk had inadvertently revealed.
“Well. Isn’t that interesting?” Even so, the memorable black suit was less stunning than the devastation he had just wrought. He still couldn’t quite comprehend it.
The witch laughed. She grasped his hand and lifted it high in a victory salute.
“You’re my partner!” Thali shouted gleefully and gave him a big wet kiss on the lips. Vehre grinned foolishly and nodded.
“Herfod!” Ugoth called.
“Yes, Majesty?”
“You gods busted fool!” he snarled.
“Yes, Majesty,” Herfod said, and they both started laughing while they stomped the flames down.
***
Ugoth ordered the combined forces onward the next morning. Three days later, an envoy of the Cho Korth arrived bearing a missive with good tidings. The promised forces were but days behind them, delayed by a flood further south. Ugoth gave the messenger a sound slap on the back in approval and sent an Ulmeniran soldier back with a missive informing Prince Amastine that the allied host would continue to Forge Mount and await him there.
The exhausted Cho Korth was put up with Captain Derell, who spoke the language enough to deal with basic needs, but the foreigner soon discovered that Brother Herfod was fluent in the Cho Korth tongue. The messenger began following him around, asking questions constantly about anything and everything. Ugoth, because he wanted Herfod’s few free moments to himself, suffered a mounting sense of frustration over the situation.
After learning the messenger was a noble-born lord of the southern kingdom, Ugoth agreed to desist ordering the garrulous fellow back down the line with Captain Derell, but he subsequently sat his stallion with a repressive glower on his face. He spent the next few days endeavouring to be patient in honour of the peace agreement between their two kingdoms, but if that young lord smiled at Herfod in just the wrong way one more time, he was going to kill him and say to hells with the Cho Korth.
On this particular day, the sky had turned overcast and commenced to soak the column with an unending drizzle. Ugoth had a wide-brimmed hat over his head to keep the rain from his eyes, while Herfod huddled beneath his cloak and cowl. The foreigner jabbered at Herfod as annoyingly and unendingly as the rain that pattered down, and Ugoth was edgier than ever. He grimaced at his horse’s neck. Herfod caught Ugoth’s latest scowl and sighed.
“Ease up!” he whispered. “He’s not like that, I said. He’s just enthusiastic. This is his first time outside his own country.”
“He’s too enthusiastic,” Ugoth retorted. “He’s doing it again.”
Herfod’s gaze shot to the other side, to note that the Cho Korth nobleman smiled fixedly from beneath his plumed helm. The plume was limp with rain, giving the warrior an overall air of discomfited civility.
“You idiot!” Herfod said to Ugoth. “That’s the way the Cho Korth show they mean no harm. It’s like holding up both palms.”
Ugoth glowered and looked away. The Cho Korth lord—Ugoth could never remember his name—asked Herfod another of his countless questions. Herfod responded easily.
“What did he want now?” Ugoth said testily.
“To know if you were ever in a pleasant mood?” Herfod snapped.
“Tell him to go away and I will be!”
“Damn, but it’s a good thing he doesn’t speak Ulmeniran,” Herfod growled.
“Damn, but they should have sent a man who could!” Ugoth growled back.
Herfod duly said something to the lord,
but Ugoth knew it wasn’t what he’d just suggested. The foreigner spoke something that sounded solemn and looked at Ugoth in a commiserating fashion.
“What did you say to him?” Ugoth demanded.
“I told him a whopping lie and said you had to marry off your true love because you got her with child and wanted to protect her,” Herfod said with waspish ill-humour. “That way he will at least think you’re not insulting him on purpose anymore.”
Ugoth forced himself not to glance at his brother. Ufrid, as usual, was hanging on their every word. “Oh,” Ugoth said lackadaisically. “Well, fine. Will it make him shut up?”
“I doubt it. Just try not to be so cussed pissed with him. He’s not a bad kid.”
“Kid? He’s as old as you!”
“And less experienced! Just cool off. He’s not a roach.”
Ufrid laughed softly. Ugoth glared at his brother. Ufrid looked away quickly. Ugoth set his furious eyes on Herfod again. “Shit!” he hissed. “Are you saying I am?”
Herfod shook his head in despair. Ugoth was a maniac, a gods busted possessive one. He almost said so, but a shout up ahead pulled their attention off the oncoming spat. Making leather creak and armour jingle, he and Ugoth stood in their stirrups and peered ahead.
They were in the Ester Pass at last, a ravine that wound between two immense rock formations, escarpments that were the results of ancient upheavals. The southern face began as highlands in Ulmenir. It angled eastward at the Ester Pass and divided the northern half of Omera in twain before fading into rolling lowlands. Trade agreements allowed Omeran merchants to cross into Ulmenir and use the pass for travel into northern Omera; the rapids of the Ester River were just too dangerous in this region and the terrain too difficult for portage. Ulmenir benefited from tolls bridges and levee taxes along the river.
The northern escarpment formed part of the border between Stohar and Winfel, but travelled in a westerly fashion beginning at the Ester Pass. It acted as a formidable barrier between Ulmenir and Stohar.
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