by Robert Bevan
The High Cleric seemed confused and distrustful, but she nodded. “If the Eye of Rasha is returned to its rightful place, it is within my granted powers to do as you ask.”
“Okie dokie,” said Katherine, a little weirded out by how much of a thing the High Cleric was making of this. “Here you go.” She held out the scepter to the High Cleric, who backed away further.
“Careful! The one you call the Ice Queen was one of us before she was driven mad with lust for the Eye's power. Anyone who touches the Eye will suffer the same fate.”
“Lucky I didn't touch it then.” Katherine glared at Brother Mayfair. “That would have been nice to know going in.”
Brother Mayfair bowed. “My apologies. Our meeting was brief, and I expected you to either give up, become enslaved, or die long before that knowledge would have benefited you.”
“Whatever,” said Katherine. “What the hell do you want me to do with this thing?”
The High Cleric pointed a trembling hand at the altar. “Place it on the altar. We shall handle it from there.”
Katherine did as she was told a little more carelessly than she should have. She was growing impatient. The brittle stone of the scepter shattered against the much firmer stone of the altar, leaving the Eye of Rasha free and exposed.
The High Cleric breathed out a sigh of relief, as if Katherine was a child who'd just set down an assault rifle she thought was a toy. She whispered a quick incantation, pointed at the glowing blue stone, then raised it telekinetically into place on the statue. All three stones glowed a bit brighter, then dimmed back to their normal glow.
“Yay,” said Katherine, underwhelmed at the payoff for all that effort. “So can we get this resurrection thing rolling now?”
“The High Cleric of the Temple of Life is true to her word.” She gave Brother Mayfair a small sideways glare. “Or to the word of those who would assume to speak for her.” She smiled at Katherine. “I don't believe you appreciate the gravity of the service you have performed here. While it's true under normal circumstances that resurrection is a substantial favor to ask of a goddess, your brother's life is worth so much less than what you've done here today.”
Katherine sighed. “Sounds like you knew him.”
The High Cleric turned to Shelda. “I apologize to you. You were right to disturb my meditation, and I was wrong to speak to you as I did.”
“It's nothing, High Cleric. Please don't give it another thought.” Shelda's gaze flicked toward Sister Kalia.
“Shall I still strike my open palm against her bare buttocks?” asked Sister Kalia.
The High Cleric shook her head. “I see no reason for that now. She has done no wrong.”
“I have other sins for which I might be punished,” said Shelda, kind of grasping at straws now. “And the junior monks have been long without a reminder of Rasha's Justice.” She gave Katherine a simpering smile. “I am inspired by this woman's bravery and would be honored to suffer on the Dais of Shame.”
Brother Mayfair and the two other male clerics slouched to allow their robes to hang more loosely over their growing erections.
“Very well,” said the High Cleric, waving Shelda and Sister Kalia away. “I have more urgent matters to attend to.”
The two young women ran off giddily to get their kink on in front of an audience.
The High Cleric strode gracefully to the altar and brushed away the remains of the Ice Queen's scepter. “Brother Mayfair. Fetch the jar of...” She looked at Katherine.
“Tim,” said Katherine.
“Yes,” said the High Cleric. “And the other components necessary to complete the spell. You can find a list in the Sacred Texts.”
Brother Mayfair bowed. “Right away, High Cleric.”
While he was away, the High Cleric produced an assortment of magical knickknacks and doo-dads from inside the altar and placed them on top. She lit candles at each corner, then crushed herbs and stirred them into an oil which smelled strongly like a mixture of Pine-Sol and Raid. While she sprinkled the mixture on the altar, Katherine voiced her concerns about the spell.
“Is my brother going to be... different in any way?”
“We all cope with trauma in our own way. Judging by the state of his remains, I would guess he did not part from this life peacefully.”
Katherine shook her head. “There was a fair amount of trauma involved.”
“He will retain the memory of everything that happened until his spirit slipped away from his body. It's up to you, the people who care about him, to help guide him on the path toward inner peace.”
“Sure,” said Katherine. “I'll be all over that. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't ripping his soul out of Heaven, or whatever your religion's equivalent is. Valhalla? Nirvana? Soundgarden?”
The High Cleric looked at her curiously. “Do you speak of the celestial planes?”
“Um... yes.” That sounded good enough to Katherine.
“Fear not. If your brother is so noble or useful to the gods, they shall simply deny my request.”
“I don't foresee that being an issue.”
Brother Mayfair huffed and panted as he jogged back to the altar hugging the jar and a few other ritual things. He looked like he's spent less time following the path toward inner peace and spiritual enlightenment, and more time following the path toward the refrigerator.
He stopped to kneel before the altar, then approached and placed the jar on top. Still panting, he said, “Rasha's... will... be done.”
Tim was looking pretty grim inside the jar. The basilisk shit had dried out, shrinking down to about a third of the mass it had been, and had grown some kind of white mold or fungus. When the High Cleric removed the lid from the jar, it was as if Rasha herself had lowered her great godly ass from on high to smite them all with a Taco Bell fart.
“Goddamn!” said Denise. “Your brother's fuckin' ripe.”
Even the High Cleric, who should have been a paragon of professionalism, seemed to be fighting to not puke her guts out.
Katherine wanted to tell them all to grow the fuck up. It's not like none of them had never smelled shit before. But she remained silent, preferring to breathe as little as was necessary to remain alive.
The High Cleric turned the jar over and dumped the small pile of basilisk shit into the bowl where she'd mixed the oil and crushed herbs. When she put her hands in and started kneading, Katherine was now the one who had to concentrate to keep herself from vomiting.
“What's this?” asked the High Cleric, pulling a shit-covered something out from the mixture.
Brother Mayfair squinted at it. “A bone, perhaps?”
“I think not. It feels metallic.” She set it aside and continued kneading. “I need flour.”
Katherine thought she might have misheard, but Brother Mayfair poured fine white powder from one of the other jars he'd returned with. She hoped that Tim wasn't going to come back as a Gingerbread Man.
When the kneading was done and the air was a little clearer, the High Cleric lifted the mixture out of the bowl. It appeared to have a consistency similar to Play-Doh. That made more sense when she actually started sculpting it. She squeezed a round blob out at the top, forming a crude head, then four longer and thinner appendages from what remained. Artistically, it was less effort than a six-year-old would have put into making a clay person, but that appeared to be good enough for Rasha. She laid the figure down on the center of the altar.
Brother Mayfair pinched three sparkling stones from a small silk pouch and placed them delicately on the altar. They appeared to be two diamonds and a large ruby. Katherine hadn't realized how expensive this was going to be. She felt cheap for not having stopped at the Stinky Pickle on the way here.
The High Cleric pushed the two diamonds into the shit figure's head where eyes would be. The ruby she pushed into its chest, then pinched the opening shut.
Denise picked up a twig from the ground and broke a piece off. “You can use this if you want to g
ive him a wiener.” Though she sounded sincere, the High Cleric ignored her and Randy giggled. To be fair to Randy, the proportions of the stick Denise had offered compared to the figure on the altar would have given Tim a dick longer than his arms.
The High Cleric put the metal thing she'd found in the basilisk shit into the mixing bowl, then placed the bowl on the ground next to the altar and spoke the word, “Water” in a British accent. Crystal clear water poured out of thin air about a foot above the bowl, then got a little murkier when it mixed with the residual oil, flour, and basilisk shit. It got murkier still when she knelt by the bowl and began scrubbing her hands in it.
“Is this part of the spell?” asked Katherine.
The High Cleric stopped scrubbing and glared up at her. “I'd prefer to proceed with clean hands, if that's quite all right with you.”
Thinking back on how she began, she could see how she might have accidentally come off as an impatient bitch.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Here.” Katherine knelt on the opposite side of the bowl and dipped a finger in. “Purify.”
The water instantly turned as clear as it had been when the High Cleric magicked it into existence, and she looked shocked to discover that she was now scrubbing perfectly clean hands.
She stood up, staring at her hands. “I can't believe I've never thought to do that before.” She pulled the mystery item out of the bowl. It appeared to be some sort of clasp, decorated with an image of a face, or rather halves of two different faces joined together.
“What is that?” asked Katherine.
“It looks like a hair clip,” said the High Cleric. “Did it not belong to your brother?”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
She held it out to Katherine. “It was in your jar. It's yours if you want it.”
Katherine didn't currently give a shit about accessorizing right now. But in the interest of keeping things moving, she accepted the clip and put it in her pocket. “Thanks.”
The High Cleric covered the shit figure in a white linen cloth, then spread her arms wide. The candles all ignited at once, and her eyes went back to being orbs of bright blue light.
Katherine stepped back to where Randy and Denise had just been, but discovered that they had also taken a step back.
The sky darkened as the High Cleric spoke an incantation in a language that Katherine didn't understand. Heavy raindrops fell on the altar, sporadically at first, then more consistently. Several times they hit the candle flames directly, producing a sizzling sound but failing to extinguish the flames. The white linen cloth took the shape of the figure underneath it as it became saturated with water. Then it moved.
It was a nearly imperceptible wiggle at first, and Katherine thought she might have imagined it, but there was no such doubt about the arm jerk that followed.
The figure grew slowly beyond the cloth, its texture transforming from shit-clay to more substantial flesh. The diamonds sank deeper into forming sockets. Other cavities opened below them, which would become nostrils and a mouth. The arms and legs sprouted fingers and toes, and became more smooth and slender. In fact, they looked to be a little too slender for a halfling. But who was she to tell a goddess she was fucking up her resurrection? The arms and legs would sort themselves out.
But when the figure on the table continued to grow bigger than Tim was supposed to be, and didn't show any signs of slowing down, Katherine couldn't keep her mouth shut anymore.
“Hey, can you shut this off? He's getting too big! He's supposed to be a halfling!”
“No, he isn't,” said Brother Mayfair.
The High Cleric looked confusedly at Katherine. “I thought you said this was your brother.”
Brother Mayfair responded before Katherine could finish rolling her eyes. “I brought this up when she arrived last time, and she seemed to be aware of certain irregularities of her claim.”
“Yes!” said Katherine. “The fact that my brother is a halfling was the irregularity I was referring to! What else did you think...” Unless he was coming back as Tim Tim. Between this and teleporting, she might have discovered a back door to get things back to normal without having to deal with Mordred or his stupid dice. She stared into Brother Mayfair's eyes. “Is he... human?”
Brother Mayfair looked even more confused than before. “No, of course not! Do you honestly have no idea who we're currently resurrecting?”
Now that he mentioned it, she wasn't sure that she did.
Katherine bit her lower lip for a moment, staring at the slender humanoid creature growing organs and bones under translucent gray skin on the altar, then looked back up at Brother Mayfair. “You're sure you got the right jar, right?”
“How many of these do you think I have?”
Something didn't add up. What was with the hair clip? Could Brother Mayfair have swapped Tim's remains out for someone he wanted to bring back? Katherine stalked up to the altar and got in his face. “I don't know. But if the person on that altar turns out to be your dead wife or a hooker you accidentally killed or some shit, we're going to have –”
“Hey!” said Randy excitedly as he approached the altar. “I think I know this guy.” He pulled the cloth down to cover the person's developing genitalia. “I saw him at the Whore's Head Inn that night when Tim killed Mordred.”
Katherine had to admit, now that his features were starting to get more defined, he did look vaguely familiar. When his skin became opaque and darkened, and white hair sprouted out the top of his head, it finally clicked.
“Tanner?”
Tanner sat bolt upright, opened his eyes wide, and sucked in as much air as his lungs could take in. His terrified gaze jumped between everyone standing around him like he was a chicken which had just woken up in a den of foxes. Finally, he locked eyes with Katherine. He looked no less terrified, but a little more confused.
“Katherine? Where am I? What happened?” His eyes rolled up and he collapsed. Randy caught his head just in time to keep him from bonking it on the hard stone altar.
“He must rest,” said the High Cleric. “His body needs time to adjust.”
Katherine didn't want to seem ungrateful for what the High Cleric had done for her, but this wasn't something she could shrug off like getting fries when she'd ordered onion rings.
“I'm sorry, High Cleric. But this isn't my brother.”
Brother Mayfair looked annoyed. “I tried to tell you that when we first met. You're the one who insisted he was your brother.”
Katherine turned to Randy. “You're sure Basil ate Tim? You saw him, right?”
“I only caught the last part of it. I saw a little hand, so I knew he ate somebody. But I didn't know it was Tim until you flew down on that pegasus and told me he just fell off that island.”
Was it possible that Tanner could have been down there in the desert as well? No, that was ridiculous. He wasn't anywhere around there.
Katherine mustered up the nerve to give the High Cleric of Rasha a stern look. “There's been a mistake.”
The High Cleric smiled. “The gods do not make mistakes. Such is the nature of divinity.” She turned to Denise. “Come forward, little dwarf. Rasha wishes to reward you as well.”
Denise put her hand to her chest. “Me?” Her shocked expression morphed into smugness as she nodded. “It's about time someone showed me some proper respect.” She waddled up to the High Cleric.
“You are with child, are you not?” the High Cleric asked rhetorically.
Denise's eyes lit up. “Is that somethin' you and Rasha can take care of, if you catch my meaning?”
“Your children are not well.”
“Ain't that a goddamn shame?” Denise shrugged, clapped her hands, then rubbed them together. “Well then I reckon it's best not to make them suffer any longer. If you'll kindly help me up onto the altar here, I'll spread my legs and you can whip out your Coat Hanger of Mercy or whatever and get this fuckin' nightmare over with.”
The High Cle
ric took a knee in front of Denise. “Be still, for you have nothing to fear.” She reached her right hand up under Denise's skirt.
“Goddamn, woman. You just gonna go up in there and pull them out with your bare hands? That's fuckin' hardcore. You got anything I can bite down on? Maybe a stick or a broom handle or something?”
“Fear not, for you will feel no pain. Perhaps just a mild tingling sensation.”
Denise tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Oh yeah, mama. You got me tinglin' alright. I could get used to –” Her eyes suddenly went wide as golf balls. “HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT!”
“Denise!” cried Randy. “Are you –”
“It is finished.” The High Cleric removed her arm, glistening and dripping up to the elbow. Thankfully, Brother Mayfair was quick to wrap a cloth around it.
“Oh. My. God.” Denise panted as she steadied herself against the altar. “That was fuckin' amazing. I want to go out and get knocked up again right now just so I can get another magical abortion.”
The High Cleric removed her hand and stood. “Your children are now healthy. Rasha's Mercy will keep both you and them safe from harm until they leave your womb.”
Denise's jaw dropped. “The fuck are you talkin' about? That ain't what I wanted! I need these fuckin' monsters out of my body!”
The High Cleric glared at Denise, then at Katherine. “Recipients of gifts from the gods generally show more gratitude.” She turned to Randy. “Perhaps the paladin can set an example for you both.”
Randy looked up like the teacher had asked him to answer a question when he hadn't been paying attention. “Rasha's got somethin' for me too?”
“She does not.”
“Oh,” said Randy, looking unsure as to how he was supposed to set an example with his reaction to that. He cleared his throat. “I am okay with that. Rasha's will be –”
“Your gift comes from the New God,” the High Cleric said, smiling warmly at him. “He says you have served him well, and you have proven yourself worthy of a mount.”
“Like a horse?” Randy frowned. “That's real thoughtful, but I don't reckon I'm ready for that kind of responsibility. I failed the last animal I tried to take care of.”
