As the final pieces came together in preparation for their last, local efforts, a sense of closure seemed to develop among the Christians as they worked and learned. Their new lives had truly begun.
***
The anti-Christian sentiment festered and grew in Grinden even more intensely than before. The Luciferian temple enjoyed record numbers as the faithful returned to the building in droves. New members constantly flooded in as well; a new military training academy opened in a nearby hamlet just outside of the monastery on the outskirts. There, a close bond had been growing between the Jand military and the official state church. Rumor was that this type of symbiotic relationship with the Luciferians was expected to rub off on the neighboring countries as well. The spread of faith would be encouraged, even imposed, upon the people by their authorities.
People arrived seeking blessings for themselves, or curses for enemies; they packed the booths and kiosks inside the temple, which lined the interior walls of the sanctuary. Adorned with these cubicles, the sanctum felt more like a market than a church. Most booths had some type of locked coffer and a golden statue, or engraved image, to indicate which demonic deity a person supplicated with monetary entreaties.
Monks devoted to certain deities were responsible for emptying the donation boxes and performing rituals for those who’d paid; sometimes those rituals occurred. The booths were usually available at all times of the day or night, so anyone could come at any time to make donations or prayers.
Temple services had become common occurrences after the recent push for commitments. The church experienced a booming revival.
In the minds and sentiments of the local population, Frinnig had become a sort of antithesis to Kevin and had become something of an authority in regards to the krist-chin threat. Frinnig regularly preached against his enemies with increasing harshness, railing against the krist-chins with all manner of ad hominem.
Everyone in Grinden knew, if you were a loyal Luciferian and wanted to know what the krist-chins were up to, you asked Frinnig. The deconstruction of the krist-chin faith became his life’s passion. Second to this goal, he bubbled with enthusiasm about seamlessly integrating the ekthro with traditional Luciferianism.
Zilke, the goblin apprentice under Frinnig, opened the service as he usually did, encouraging people to find a seat amongst the benches. Jandul ceremonially lit several candles and beat a large gong to officially signal the beginning of corporate prayer. Zilke led the assembly, chanting several mantras, each one declaring the wonder and splendor of Lucifer, the glorious enemy of Yahweh God; the words of the cantion pledged allegiance to the angel of light.
After the pledges, Frinnig arose from his seat on the dais and came forward. He read from a prepared text in an ancient book of lore and then led the people in another chant. Finally, with ceremony accomplished, the temple leader began his most recent verbal assault upon his enemies, whipping the people into a frenzy.
“Do you know what these krist-chins do? They get you to believe their heresy and once they’ve convince you to sell everything that you own and give it to them they demand more, yet. What will happen when their methods stop working—when people stop joining them? What is in store next for our community when their charms and guile wear off? I will tell you. They will come and take it from us by force.
“Some of you have seen what they are capable of doing. They have weapons, swords in fact, that can cut right through our own shields and armor, even.” Frinnig tossed the two halves of a broken blade to the temple floor with a loud clatter. He held up another of the destroyed weapons in his hands. “This is the kind of powers they wield; they are brigands! They are bandits!” The priest slung a heavy piece of breast mail over his shoulders and let it hang off his frame; the gaping hole where it was cut open was plainly visible to all.
“Their magical weapons are of the highest order. They use these powerful items to destroy your very means of protection, leaving you defenseless! What is a man without his weapon? If you disarm a people, you leave them hopeless in the face of any enemy who can attack either from outside or within. It is already our belief that they assassinated King Harmarty in an early bid for power, attempting a take-over when they first arrived on the scene. Thank the Angel of Light for King Rutheir who prevented their preliminary rise, lest we all be put under their thumb.”
The crowd hooted and applauded.
“I, myself, walk with trepidation whenever I must journey to and from the monastery where I teach. These bandits could overtake even me. They’ve already proven their power is sufficient to kill groups of trained warriors. How can you stand against an enemy of that nature, I ask you?
“I will tell you how. I know our solution. It is based on loyalty and our faith in the men who have sworn to uproot this threat. I have faith in our king, Rutheir. He is a well-trained warrior. I have faith in Absinthium; the prophet has informed me that he is working on a magical solution to this problem and it has top priority.” Frinnig held up a broken blade. “He assures me that the tables will be reversed.
“I tell you these things so that you can be informed, not so that you will be fearful. You will all watch the arch-mage deliver us from these current troubles. This will prove his power and position to all nonfaithful, both home and abroad.”
A murmur of assent rose from the congregation.
“Until that time comes, and it is coming soon, we need to give these heretics no quarter. They are outlaws and they should be treated as such. Mark my words, their time draws to a close and their power will not last beyond a few more weeks.”
***
Kevin and company rode out early in the morning. They entered the forest trail without a second thought. No inquisitive eyes pursued them and the Christians had managed to keep complete anonymity thus far. The deserted trail plummeted through the flora like a vein through flesh.
Zeh-Ahbe’ led his group through the trail as the only member of the group who had passed this way in recent time. The floor of the trail had overgrown with foliage and the sides of the once spacious road had crept in with greenery that encroached upon the trail. Undergrowth and stubborn patches of verdure sprouted through even the most hardened cake of trodden soil, beaten hard by years of regular usage. The forest canopy sealed the pathway overtop and created a tunnel where the air thickened and muted their words; humidity laded the atmosphere with the heavy smell of damp vegetation.
For the first short stretch of the trail, the diminished light gave the route an ominous feeling as they traversed the distance. When the mouth of the forest tunnel could no longer be seen, their eyes adjusted and the dismal feeling passed away completely.
Occasional shafts of light broke through sections of the canopy and cast pockets of illumination onto the road’s surface. Where the forest had seemed ominous and dark only minutes prior it took on a serene feeling. Animals and insect noises buzzed and chirped in symphony; Kevin drank in the peaceful scene.
The forest put him at ease and Kevin realized why. Most of the trees were the breeds he had seen on Earth and the animal noises were familiar. Most of the greenery and creatures here were of an earthly origin. Long ago, seeds from Earth, and animals, must have been transplanted into this area. Satan, in his creation of the realm, had opened the access between existences; the inferior creation was taken over in many places by the good things that God had made previously. The thought encouraged him and Kevin smiled. Good overtakes evil; light drives out darkness.
Kyrius pulled out his stringed instrument and began to strum a little music as they passed through the forest. Occasionally, he would sing along. His songs helped pass the time.
After several hours the travelers saw a small, bright light in the distance. The beacon indicated the trail’s end and that their shortcut through the forest was drawing to a close. It couldn’t have come at a more agreeable time; they had decided to travel through lunchtime in hopes of making it to Driscul for a late meal at an inn or supper
house.
A short while later, the caravan exited the trail and their eyes adjusted yet again. The woods appeared much darker than what it really was; without werewolves, its reputation was undeserved.
The trail spilled out onto an overgrown knoll that overlooked the town of Driscul. Most of the surrounding land sloped downward, creating a basin-like shape that the community rested within. The furthest side of the settlement adjoined the edge of the lake; docks and wharfs rooted at the far border stemmed outward into the large body of water, Lake Apigra. Much of the commerce of the city revolved around the fishing industry or drew on the other resources provided by the enormous lake.
The Christians felt the cool breeze blowing off the lake as they pointed their mounts towards the city. The water’s shimmering surface spread far beyond view, even from a relative height. They came to the edge of the town and chose the first supper house they found off the main road.
Havara met with the staff and ordered a large dinner for them all, paying in advance. He wanted to provide his companions with as much as he could; he gave out of his abundance and it was his pleasure. He tipped the cook extra in order to prepare it quickly; they were very hungry, and Jibbin was extremely uptight, his normal lunchtime had long since passed.
When the food came, Kevin prayed a blessing over the food and over his company of believers. They lingered as they ate, knowing that their group would be splitting after the meal. Some of them would stay as others went ahead.
After supper, the fellowship meandered to the road on the outside edge of the city, up the slope to the south side of Driscul. They milled there silently for a few short moments while Kevin reminded each of them of their duty and promised they would regroup in a few short days.
“If I do not return in seven days, then you must all return to the settlement and assume that I have been killed. I assume that if I fall, Kyrius would survive and bring warning to you of danger. If none return in seven days, then the worst must have happened.”
Havara said, “It is one full day’s journey to Xorst if we ride hard. If we ride until we reach Sprazik we should make Xorst by mid-day tomorrow.”
Kevin nodded. “I plan to stay in the city for three days and then return, so I should be back within five or six days. I will not delay any longer than this so that you will have assurance of my return. Look for me on the middle of day five; that is when I assume we will return.”
“Who exactly is ‘We?’” Rashnir asked the question that they all wondered. “Who travels with you and who stays?”
“Other than Kyrius, I have chosen only one person to accompany me on this journey.”
Rashnir looked at Shinna. He’d assumed it would be him all along and hoped that the gentle, older woman could comfort Jibbin during the warrior’s short absence.
“Werthen, I would like it if you came.”
Rashnir rocked back, shocked. “What? Kevin, you must take me with you. You need me!”
Kevin nodded. He assumed Rashnir would feel this way. Rashnir had completely bound his life to the preacher.
“Rashnir, I do need you, but I need you here in Driscul. I know what you are thinking; you think that only you can protect me, that if something happens to me it will be your fault. I have Kyrius with me; we will be fine. The others will need your protection more than I will, and think of the people in Driscul. The very souls of the ones in this town cry out for someone to save them. Your duty is here. Jibbin is here. I prayerfully believe that I have made the right choice.”
Rashnir looked back to his group apprehensively. He knew Kevin was right. He had good reasons for picking who he did. He nodded to his friend.
Kevin addressed the remaining group as a whole. “Your mission here is very important. There are people here who need to hear the gospel. I have already taught you what you need to know. Keep each other strong and help each other to accomplish this task; it is the Lord’s will and I have faith in you all.”
Werthen knelt beside Rashnir and spoke to Jibbin, who still held a satchel of Werthen’s ferrets. The ferreter gave the boy another package, which contained the ferrets’ food and other items. “I need you to take care of these for me, okay Jibbin?”
The little boy nodded, not quite understanding the situation.
Werthen placed a hand on Rashnir’s shoulders and they locked eyes. An unspoken agreement passed between them. Werthen would protect Kevin, and Rashnir would care for his beloved ferrets.
Kevin quickly prayed over his group and they laid their hands on him and prayed for him in kind. They had each pledged to pray for him in his absence.
Kevin, Kyrius, Werthen, and Havara mounted their horses and trotted eastward, heading for the Gleendish border. The remainder of the Christians stood in the road for a long while, watching them ride away. Before he was fully out of sight, the preacher turned in his saddle and waved to them, pointing heavenward, and then they passed beyond the horizon.
The Christians led their animals back to Driscul and searched for an inn where they could stay until Kevin returned.
***
Prock leaned up against the grassy berm. Behind him, his wyvern rested partly coiled upon itself, blanketed under its scaly, black wings.
He sat forward; a shrill, sharp pain drove into his brain like a dagger and his eyes rolled back into his skull. The acolyte crawled towards the campfire nearby and shook the pain out of his mind. He’d received a summons from his master; pain was a part of the process.
Wiping away a small trickle of blood, Prock grimaced at the leakage from his nose. He didn’t flee pain, but neither did he wholly welcome it. Minor annoyances such as this made him resentful of the aristocratic Anakim in Briganik who had horded the majority of the rare qâsam stones, cornering the market and driving up the price of the mystic communicators.
He tossed a handful of dry reagents into the smoldering fire and watched the kindling flash into a living, smoldering shape. Absinthium’s apparition greeted him with a nod. “I am glad to see that you’ve survived your trial in the wasteland… I assume you have laid claim to the prize in Domn?”
The acolyte bowed. “Yes, master.”
“Excellent. Then we are ahead of schedule with our plans, and that proves serendipitous. I need you to divert for a short period. Your wyvern is perhaps the fastest means of transport and I require a courier to retrieve a new and potent serum invented by the dread lord.
“Meet your brother in Babel. He worked alongside beh’-tsah to brew the ‘ãbêdâh and will instruct you in its use.”
“Brother?” Prock asked leadingly, hoping it was not his rival amongst the acolyte corps.
“Wynn is currently working another angle in Grinden,” Absinthium answered. He knew Prock and Wynn vied with each other, and he preferred it that way. It kept them sharp, hungry. “Ferrying the solution might be too small a task for you, I suppose. I could always dispatch a gryphon for Wynn and he could test the limits of the ‘ãbêdâh potion as per beh’-tsah’s request.”
Prock frowned at the thought. “No my lord. I will depart at once for Briganik.”
The flaming apparition of the arch-mage nodded his approval before it faded. Prock sprang to his feet and blew a note on his whistle as he gathered his small cache of belongings and stowed them upon the rousing, winged beast.
The work of those called and worthy of Lucifer seemed never to be concluded. Prock checked the tension on his beast’s saddle system—he preferred it no other way.
Chapter 5
Rutheir tossed aside the royal garments and his crown. He nudged them out of the way with his foot and flexed his powerful muscles as he stretched out. He had never given much mind to playing at royalty—he had only cared about raw power, and playing his role in Harmarty’s court, however distasteful it had been, had been his path to true power beyond what his abundance of physical strength granted him.
Grinning, the gladiator king cracked his knuckles and beckoned an opponent to co
me at him. He hunched forward into his ready stance, a mountain of a man with a secret heritage tracing his bastardized roots to the warlord chieftains of Mankra.
The slave who faced him in hand-to-hand combat was dressed in tatters; they fluttered as the terrified slave shook with fear. He’d tied his rags into a makeshift loincloth and he was emaciated; the pale, sallow skin indicated years spent toiling in long shifts below grounds. The kingdom of Jand had a long-standing posture of reproach to the slaving trade, especially since its western borders were in such immediate danger of encroaching slave raiders from Zipha who poached their population wherever possible.
However, this alliance between the Luciferian mage, the monarch of Jand, and tyr-aPt, the puppet-king of the goblin realm, had many perks. Training matches such as this one were just one of those. grr’SHaalg had sent him a small contingent of slaves that had become worthless due to a variety of reasons. They ordinarily would have been stripped out and reprocessed; their bodies lumped back into the gruel that fed the slave chain gangs laboring in the secret depths. grr’SHaalg thought instead to offer them as a gift. It was certainly a gift that pleased Rutheir. It had been some time since he was able to completely lose himself in the glory of combat. He could never unleash his full fury against sparring partners and as much as his predecessor had engaged in every vice he could lay a hold of; Harmarty hated physical restraint.
A cluster of goblin servants had been sent along to command the slaves. They gripped the chain leads and deterred any thoughts of escape; the fetters linked the twisted iron torcs together and the row of metal bands encircling the slave’s necks kept them locked in an obedient row. In addition to useless workers, grr’SHaalg also sent a contingent of “political criminals” which needed disposing of. These ekthroic criminals had been friends and supporters of king Nvv-Fryyg that the new regime believe noncompliant. Obviously uncomfortable, the shackled goblins bit at the fetters that held them firm.
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