by Kyle J Cisco
“This is the way out,” Natasha said, gesturing to the right tunnel that forked off from the main corridor.
“Yes, and how did you figure that?” Jack said.
“Do you not feel the breeze leading down this tunnel? That usually means there’s an exit somewhere down there.”
“Well, let us hope it is one we can fit through.”
The group rounded a sharp corner. An old wooden ladder led to the top of the tunnel. At the base of it, three dwellers waited.
“We need to hurry!” Jack said tapping Natasha on the shoulder as he urged her forward. “Virgil’s wounds are going to need more attention. And soon.”
“I know, Jack, but I will not kill us in the process to save an orphan boy.”
Virgil shushed the other two. “Damn it—forget me. Natasha, ready your crossbow. Jack, after she fires, you charge in and finish them off. I will follow up the rear and watch our backs. We don’t want to get into a prolonged engagement.”
“We are perfectly capable of making our own plans, thank you,” Natasha snapped.
Virgil shifted to the cavern wall, resting his weight on his battle-ax. A bolt whistled through the air between them and the group of dwellers.
The feral creatures jumped and ran at the party, shrieking. One got struck in the head with the bolt and another fell to a dagger that Jack launched. The remaining dweller rushed at Jack who bashed its face with his shield and finished it off with a thrust to the chest.
Upon reaching the ladder, Virgil could hear more of the creatures coming up from behind them. Evidently, the initiates had walked into a trap that would envelop them from both sides. Virgil gestured to Natasha to climb the ladder to reach the old door that would lead back up into the Order’s fortress. Making her way up the ladder, she reached the door as the second group of dwellers met Jack’s blade. The sounds of combat were amplified in the small tube leading back to the surface and safety. The thuds that came from the top of the ladder told Virgil that Natasha was having difficulties with the door. With one final crack, the lock holding the door fell beside Virgil.
Light swept down the tube and illuminated the floor at Virgil’s feet. He looked up and saw Natasha climb toward the exit from the tunnel. Jack fought off the dwellers at the end of the hall. Something fell from above—Natasha landed on her feet to rejoin the fray. She hurled a blade into the nearest dweller’s neck, silencing it. Jack finished off the last of the dweller attackers, allowing the three friends to escape up the ladder as fast as they could. Hands reached down and offered help. Natasha grabbed one hand and with a jerk was lifted out of the hole. Next came Virgil who used only one arm to climb the ladder to find himself face-to-face with Master Evon Krich. Virgil tried to stand, but all faded into black.
3
Hours passed. Once they got to the medical wing of the fortress, their wounds were bound. Virgil had sustained the worst of the injuries with a few cracked ribs, the gash in his shoulder and leg, and the knife wound to his ribcage. A week passed before Virgil was deemed healthy enough to leave.
Finally the day of the initiation ceremony arrived. The others gathered in the foyer of the grand hall, awaiting Virgil’s arrival to the ritual that would bring the three of them together in a bone like no other. They would be eternally bound to serve the Light, to protect those within the walls of the Order, and to secure all of the realm of man.
The doors to the Hall of Light swung open, and a procession of chaplains filed out of the door, led by Chaplain Rex, the instructor of the graduating class.
“Come with me, my students, and become my brothers and sister in the Order.”
Rising, Jack, Natasha, and Virgil entered the grand hall, a massive room that as initiates they hadn’t been allowed to enter. Paintings of chaplains and heroes of bygone days peered down between pillars. Alone in the front of the hall above the altar stood a giant statue of Dvorak wearing his armor and wielding a great double-bladed ax.
The party made their way to the front of the hall and took a knee at the steps of the altar, waiting to be called forth by the High Executor. A man in golden robes and a mask that was made of pure gold entered through a door next to the altar. A hush fell over the room. He took his place at the altar, gesturing for everyone in the room to rise. The Executor moved out from behind the altar.
“On this day, we welcome those who have taken their final step in showing their virtue and worthiness to join this sacred order. Come forth, Virgil. Take up the knife, shed your blood, and offer your vow of initiation.”
Virgil did so, letting his blood leak into the bowl atop the altar. He then recited the oath of the Order: “Through the Light, we shall prevail; through the Light, hope shall not fail. For as long as the Light may remain, forever shall we be evil’s bane.”
“Take a knee and kiss the altar that Dvorak built.”
Leaning down, he placed his lips upon the placard symbolizing the Ring of Dvorak.
“Now rise, my brother. Take your rightful place within the Order. Stay faithful to the Light, for it will always guide you home.”
Virgil made his way down the stairs as the hall erupted into thunderous applause. Reaching the end of the stairs, he took his place next to Jack. Joining the brotherhood with two others who had experienced such triumph and tribulation together with him was a moment that Virgil knew would stick with him throughout his life. No other initiates in the Order could have defeated the Faceless One as they had done—perhaps not even many of the brothers themselves could have survived that task.
Virgil let the thought slip as Natasha strode up to the altar to sacrifice her blood and take the oath.
“Turn, my new brothers and sister,” the High Executor said. “Look upon your family within the walls of this Order for the first time. Remember this day as long as you live, and may the Light always guide you to victory in the pursuit of justice and the protection of the innocent within the realm of man. Go now and bring Light to the world.”
The moment was almost overwhelming, looking at the faces of so many people Virgil knew would fight alongside him one day. Chaplain Rex and Evon Krich held out to Virgil and Natasha a new set of leather armor, each with the six-pointed star imprinted into the chest piece.
Virgil took the leather armor from Rex. The feel of the leather in his hands sent him a jolt of excitement. His fingers glided over the raised star emblem.
“One needs new armor if one means to stand with us against the armies of Darkness,” said Rex. He then embraced Virgil as a brother for the first time. “You earned this, Virgil.”
“Jack, your suit of armor is being repaired and fashioned with the same symbol,” Evon said. “This way you may leave the torment of your troubled past behind and start anew as a brother of the Order.”
Evon grinned at the astonished look on the Jack’s face. He had worn the old, dented plate since he joined the Order, much to the nobleman’s chagrin.
“Welcome, my brothers and sister.” The weapons master embraced each of them, even Natasha. “Young lady, you are quite an impressive ranger. It’s my honor to welcome you to the Order. Now let’s celebrate. Bring on the ale—we have new members that need their thirst clenched!”
Then began the lavish party thrown for the new initiates. Music flowed through the halls, soaring melodies played by the most experienced musicians in the Order. Voices sung of the triumphs of the Order in the days of all old against a darkness that would never rise again.
Virgil made his way through the crowd of brothers and sisters who clapped him on the back and praised him, but the words of the Faceless One was the only thing he could focus on at the moment. He reached the altar and there he found Evon Krich, Chaplain Rex, and the High Executor. Rex motioned for him to approach.
“May we go for a walk?” Virgil asked his mentor.
Once the two had entered a deserted hall nearby, Rex asked, “What is it, my son, that has you so troubled?”
Virgil looked into his mentor’s eyes, not sure where t
o start. “Who were my parents?”
“As I have told you. You were left here at the Order. But that cannot be what has you so troubled. Virgil, what happened down there? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No, don’t change the subject. What was left with me? A note? Anything of importance? I need to know.”
“Virgil, why? Tell me what happened so I can better understand.”
“It’s something the figure we faced in the shrine room called me.”
“What did it call you?” Rex’s expression turned grim.
“It said I was of House Novak. A descendant of Dvorak.”
“Disciples of the Darkness use our hopes and dreams to undermine us during battle. Let it not cloud your focus. We will discuss this more in the morning. I want all three of you present at the war council meeting to discuss this confrontation in more detail.”
“Yes, Chaplain, we will be there,” Virgil replied, bowing in a sign of respect.
“You no longer have to bow like that to me, Virgil. We are brothers now. Go and enjoy your party. We will talk of war in the morning.”
Chaplain Rex and Virgil left the room together and headed back toward the grand hall.
“Where have you been?”
Virgil spun around, realizing the voice was Natasha. “I was taking a piss. What business is it of yours?”
She had no time to respond.
“Fire! There is a fire on the horizon—one of the villages is burning!”
A guard raced toward the steps where the High Executor sat.
“There is trouble, Lord Executor, we must send aid!”
“Indeed,” he said, his expression hidden under his golden mask. “This is troubling news. We will arrange a small contingent of men to head to the village to take stock of the damage. When the team returns, we shall send the aid required for the survivors.”
Virgil stepped up. “I would be honored to lead an expedition to find out what those villagers need, High Executor.”
“A noble gesture, Brother Virgil. Your time for command will come. Rex will lead the expedition to the village.”
Virgil flushed and took a step back.
The Executor waved the guard off with one hand and beckoned for Virgil to join him at his table.
“I know you are eager for a command, brother, and I understand. We have all been there. You look to prove you belong in this Brotherhood, but there is no need. There is no need to prove anything that you haven’t already shown in the trials.”
The Executor put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil looked into the eye slits of the glimmering mask that had adorned every High Executor since the creation of the Order.
“Now, Chaplain Rex tells me of your experience in the caverns.”
Virgil felt as though the brown eyes covered by the mask bore into his soul. The uncomfortable feeling lingered for a moment as Virgil waited for the man to finish his thought.
“I am worried about what this Faceless One said to you. It needs to be looked into at once. We will speak more of it at the council meeting tomorrow, but I feel a darkness looming over us all. It has been gathering for months now. We must look to our borders and prepare for the defense of the realm.”
“Yes, Executor. I am here to do what is needed to keep the people safe.”
“Good, Brother Virgil. Now go and enjoy the night of celebration.”
Virgil headed back to his quarters instead of lingering at the celebration. He threw himself on his cot, and his mind began to race. Thoughts of the Faceless One, of his magic, and then the fire fought against his yearning for sleep. Minutes ticked by as he stared at the ceiling of his quarters.
Sleep finally took him. But the red light seeping in through the window that night was not from the dawn but from the inferno still blazing in the distance.
4
The orange glow of fire caught Virgil’s attention. He stood at the edge of the village as he watched the fire consume everything before it.
“Why didn’t you save them? You could’ve saved them!” came a voice from behind Virgil’s back.
He spun around to see a figure cloaked in black, the hood obscuring the figure’s face. The intruder pointed to something in the distance. As Virgil turned, he heard a scream as a woman dropped to the ground. Another of the figures stood over her. It reached down and seemed to be inhaling the essence of life from her chest.
Virgil sprung up in his sweat-soaked bed. His heart thundered in his chest and panted like a dog suffering in the heat.
“I need some air,” Virgil said aloud, though no one else was in the room.
Virgil paced along the ramparts thinking of the nightmare of shadow and flame. The nightmare had seemed so real. The chill night air told him there was no hope of getting back to sleep. Virgil leaned upon the gatehouse as he pondered the meaning behind the nightmare.
A bell clanged.
Heart racing, Virgil rushed toward the edge of the parapet, surprised to see not an enemy army from the south but a lone man coming from the north. And there, off in the distance, he could see the smudge of smoke rising from where the village still burned. Reaching the gatehouse, he signaled to the guard on duty to open the gate. The traveler looked wounded and Virgil rushed out to help the man inside.
“They came in the night and killed them all.” The man kept repeating those words as Virgil helped him into the fortress.
“What? Who came?”
“They came in the night and killed them all. Where were you and your brothers?”
The man stared at Virgil with cold, blank eyes. The chill of guilt shot through Virgil’s gut.
“They killed all of us. Torched our houses. And you did nothing to protect us, blood of the great one.”
“What did you call me?” said Virgil.
“Why did your Order not save us? We were left to die.”
Virgil balled his fist. “Who did this to your village, man? Tell me all that happened!”
“The shadows came and slit our throats in our sleep. They killed us all. I took up arms to protect my family, but I was too late. They were already dead.”
“These shadows—were they cloaked in black, but their faces obscured by a cloth of some sort?”
“Yes . . . yes. How . . . how did you know that?”
Virgil grabbed the man by his arm, leading him toward the room where the war council would be meeting. Reaching the door, Virgil swung it open and entered without permission, still hauling the man behind him. Pushing the man forward he said, “This man says his entire village was killed last night and burnt by shadows.”
Silence encompassed the room as solemn men looked from the beaten and bloodied villager and back to Virgil.
“Did you not hear me? This man has information on the fire last night. It was not just a fire but an assault on the entire town. I will mobilize a search party and look for survivors immediately. If there are any objections, speak them now.”
“You shall do no such thing,” the Executor said, his voice echoing through the room. “Mind your place, young Virgil. I am the one to make those decisions. Now take a seat.”
“My lord, we need to hear the full story from this man to know what we are up against,” Rex said.
“There is no time for that,” Virgil protested. “There may be survivors from that village—and we need to hunt down these shadows before they can make another strike somewhere else. I know what these shadows look like—they have been haunting my dreams since I met the figure in the caverns. Now the same attack, the same fire.”
The statement elicited looks of surprise and concern around the room. Councilors turned, whispering to each other.
“Why were these dreams not mentioned before, Virgil?” Rex asked. Virgil was surprised to see a wounded look on the man’s face.
The Executor slammed the table. “This is my call, and I will make it. Chaplain Rex will lead the mission to the village. Rex, pick your team and leave immediately. Now leave us; we have much t
o discuss.”
Virgil stood upon that last command and left the room. He paced the hallway as he waited for Rex outside the council chamber. His mind went back to the Faceless One’s words and now what the villager had called him. There must be something more. There was something Rex was not telling him. But what—and why?
There was a rush of air as the council chamber doors opened. Rex emerged from the chamber, and Virgil noticed the measured pace in his mentor’s steps.
“We need to discuss this dream. Was there anything else you could see?”
“No, nothing. Why? Should there be?”
Rex’s brow furrowed.
“They may be holding one of our chaplains with them—if they did not kill him last night. Walk with me.”
They headed down the hall.
“A while ago we found out that one of our chaplains was trying his hand at blood magic, trying to bring back family he lost during the last war of darkness. Chaplain Xavier was troubled. He set off for a journey to once again connect with the power of the Light and has not been seen since. We heard rumors he was resting at the village that was burned last night.”
Reaching his chambers, he paused. “My purpose on this mission is to find out what happened to him. I want you to join me on this mission, Virgil. I am going to collect the others. Make yourself ready and get down to the courtyard. Await my arrival there. Have Jack petition the guard captain for volunteers.”
“Yes, sir. No worries, Chaplain. I accept your invitation. There is still much I need to learn about the extent of my control over magic. We will wait for you in the courtyard. And thank you.”
This was to be Virgil’s first mission, and he was not about to go in unprepared, not with the threat from the Faceless One still fresh in the back of his mind. As he reached the courtyard, he saw most of the team already arrayed for battle and ready to go.
Virgil looked out over the courtyard. Only a few members of the Order were present. He saw Jack, Natasha, and a few others he did not recognize. Rangers worked on their bow craft while others went over their gear for the mission once more. Jack approached Virgil from the other side of the courtyard.
