He brought his arms down, but Silas stepped in and caught him by the wrists. The two began to wrestle for control of the weapon.
“You are so dead,” the guard spat. “Once I finish you off, I’m gonna figure out who your friends are and kill them, too, as a lesson to the rest.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He shoved Silas away, sending him tumbling over the bench he’d been standing on a few moments earlier.
Recognition flashed in the guard’s eyes and he smiled. “Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of this Twareg. His symbol’s an upside down hammer, isn’t it? Yeah, it is.” He began to once more stalk Silas. “Kind of looks like a cock and balls, if you ask me. Yeah. I think after I kill you, I’m gonna go find one of his symbols and use it to fuck your mother.” He raised the blade again and charged.
“You would dare sully a symbol of Twareg in such a way?!” Silas bellowed, moving to again dodge the somewhat clumsy strike.
Silas stepped in, but before he or the guard could make another move, a dim halo of yellowish light began to emanate from the young zealot’s body. Both men seemed surprised to see this, but Silas was apparently in too much of a righteous rage to care.
He swung a fist and connected solidly with the guard’s face. The glow around him sparked as he made contact, sending teeth flying and putting the other man flat on his back.
Silas wasted no time in wrenching the longsword out of his opponent’s grasp. He stood above the prone guard and pointed the blade at him.
Whispers and murmurs began to rise up all around them.
“He ... he defeated a guard.”
“What’s that glow around him?”
“Did someone shove a torch up his ass?”
“No. I’ve seen that before. It’s a divine aura. He’s a ... a paladin.”
“A paladin slave? That’s absurd.”
“It’s true. It has to be.”
Before the whispers could get much louder, the guard held up his hands in supplication. “Please, spare me.” Silas began to lower the blade, but then the guard added, “I ... I beg Twareg for mercy.”
“As you wish, my friend,” Silas replied, lifting the weapon high. “I grant you the only mercy that Twareg shows to sinners like you.”
A REVOLTING DEVELOPMENT
People die every day ... whether it’s of old age, sickness, being killed on the road by brigands, or any of a thousand different ways. Most of those deaths don’t resonate very far – a life snuffed out with little to commemorate the moment.
But some deaths are a catalyst, a torch thrown into a barn filled to the brim with dry hay.
Silas Kane dispatched the guard who’d threatened his friends and, more importantly to the overly zealous paladin, mocked his god. The man’s death itself was nothing spectacular – a quick wheeze of breath, followed by the normal twitching as his spirit received the message that it was time to close up shop and move on. But, as Silas bent down and took the man’s bow and quiver, the tinder that he’d struck began to rise up into a mighty flame.
“Y-you killed him,” a slave with an apparent gift for the obvious said.
“I showed him mercy,” Silas corrected. “Even now, Twareg is shoving this unbeliever’s soul up his godly ass so that he may stew forever in his holy colon. For it is written in the One True Book of...”
“Twareg!” Slug shouted, drowning him out. “Praise Twareg!”
He repeated the phrase until more and more voices rose up and echoed him. As the chorus grew, several more guards rushed to the aid of their fallen comrade.
They never made it.
It is doubtful whether Silas knew what he was unleashing, but at that moment, he stood up tall and raised the bow into the air. “Yes! All glory to Twareg!”
It was as if he pulled the lynchpin from a catapult. At his words, at least a dozen of the slaves who’d witnessed his defiance fell upon the guards. More soon joined in. Within short order, the defenders of the temple were felled and their weapons stripped from their bodies.
Clerics of Loradain raced in to help quell the riot which had seemingly started from out of nowhere, but most of their spells were geared toward healing. The few offensive incantations they possessed were more aimed at stunning than killing. Soon enough, their corpses were piled with the guards, and the sound of their maces could be heard as they were used to smash apart the chains still binding many of the slaves.
Silas, for his part, stripped the dead guard of his leather armor, then carved a crude depiction of a hammer over the symbol of Loradain before donning it. “Ah, much better.”
“Yes, arming yourself for the battle to come,” Slug said. “A wise move.”
“Huh?” Silas asked. “It’s not that. My tunic is soft and comfortable. I much prefer the feel of leather chafing against my tender flesh. Ah, the discomfort of my nether regions after a long day of rubbing against armor is a true blessing to behold.”
Before Slug could properly process this, Gideon pushed his way through the throng of slaves. “What have you done, Maggot?”
Slug immediately got into his face. “What has he done?! He’s shown us a new path.” His voice rose, addressing the crowd. “A new chapter begins in our lives, one filled with hope and freedom. One filled with the might of Twareg! And we have Maggot to thank for showing us the way!”
A chant of “Maggot,” began to rise up in the temple.
“WAIT!” Slug roared, eyeing Gideon. “Maggot is his slave name. The name given by our overseers.” He turned to Silas. “Tell us, what should we call you?”
Silas shrugged. “I like being called Maggot, for it is all I am in the eyes of Twareg.”
“But surely you had a name before coming to this gods-forsaken place.”
“True. The dwarves at the shrine named me Silas Kane, but I much prefer Mag...”
“All hail Silas Kane!” Slug cried, his voice echoing in the temple. “Paladin of Twareg and smasher of chains!”
Any protests Silas might have had were buried beneath an avalanche of voices shouting his name. If anything, he looked far more perplexed than inspired but that didn’t seem to matter to those around him.
Finally, when it died down enough, he said, “Do not praise me. Look to Twareg for your guidance, for he shall show you the path.”
“And where will that path take us next?” Grub Shit asked from the crowd.
“Um ... home, I guess,” Silas replied. “There’s still much work left to be done this day.”
Slug clapped Silas on the back. “You heard the man! The first place we take is the home of our so-called master. Death to Dingus!”
Judging by the confused look on Silas’s face, it was dubious as to whether that was actually what he’d meant, but by then it was too late. The slaves were already raising their fists into the air and promising that Dingus Glitterfinger would be the first of many to come.
♦ ♦ ♦
Three quarters of the temple slaves rushed back toward Dingus’s estate, moving quickly before the city guards grew wise to their plans. The rest headed toward the other great houses of Kel to tell their fellow servants of what had happened and to induct more of them into the uprising which was slowly forming.
It had been a long time since Kel had experienced a slave revolt of any significance. Yes, there were the occasional protests, and every now and then a minor noble had their throat cut in their sleep. But these were often isolated incidents which were always put down quickly before they could spread. If anything, the high lords of Kel, of which Dingus Glitterfinger was one, felt secure in their power, as they were practically city-states in their own right, administering swift and brutal justice as was needed to keep their slaves in line.
Because of this arrogance, the trio of bugbears guarding the rear entrance to Dingus’s lower estate thought little of the swarm of slaves rapidly approaching. It wasn’t until it was too late that they realized some of the slaves were armed and all were free of the ch
ains they usually wore.
Though the guards managed to fell a good half dozen, thanks to their size and strength, they were overrun before they could raise an alarm.
Dingus’s estate was large and well-fortified, so the screams of the guards went unnoticed even as their weapons were pulled from their dying hands. Even if they had been heard, though, it’s unlikely much would have been done. Cries of pain weren’t exactly uncommon in Kel – albeit it was usually the slaves, not their overseers, doing the screaming.
As other servants were encountered, they were offered the choice of joining the rebellion. Some, no doubt terrified by the throng of maniacs crying Twareg’s name, fled. But many more joined in, seeing hope – a rare thing in itself – shining in their fellow slaves’ eyes. Soon, they, too, were crying the name of a god most of them had never heard of before that day.
By the time word reached Dingus – who’d been otherwise occupied using his glitter fingers on one of his favorite concubines – nearly half his compound had been overrun. By the time he took it seriously, all avenues of escape were cut off.
Despite his small size, the slave master wasn’t an easy mark. Though he’d long since retired to a life of hedonistic cruelty, once upon a time he’d been a wizard for hire, a mercenary known for his sharp mind and quick spells.
Alas, time and inactivity can turn even the most stalwart warrior into little more than a junior adventurer.
As the first wave of the rebelling slaves attempted to breach his inner chambers, Dingus called upon his eldritch powers, unused in years, and flung an orb of brightly colored flame directly into the midst of battle where his mightiest guards were attempting to hold back the angry mob.
The fireball exploded in a brilliant sphere of red-hot energy, instantly vaporizing five slaves at the vanguard of the assault. Unfortunately, his aim was off, for he also ended up stunning the very guards who’d formed a bottleneck into his chambers.
A few minutes, and several wasted magic missiles later, multiple bodies lay on the floor from both sides of the struggle. Dingus himself was dragged from his bedroom screaming a litany of curses, all of which fell on deaf ears ... partially because of the sonic boom spell he’d used right before his capture.
The former slave master was carried to the second floor balcony where Slug, Gideon, and Silas awaited. A mass of freed slaves stood on the floor below cheering them on, despite Silas’s protests that they only cheer for Twareg.
Dingus was flung to the floor before them and forced onto his knees.
Slug stepped up and spat upon him. “How the mighty have fallen.”
“You would dare put yourself above me?” Dingus cried angrily. “I am your master.” Slug responded by lifting a broken chair leg above his head. “But I’m not entirely averse to the concept of discussing an emancipation plan.”
“Too late, dog. I’m going to enjoy...”
“Wait!” Gideon cried. “Do we really want to sink to his level?”
“I would need to cut off my own legs to sink to his level.”
“I meant we should prove that we’re better than him. Am I right, Silas?”
Silas looked up from where he was busy carving the symbol of Twareg into the back of his hand with an arrowhead. “In the eyes of Twareg, we are all despicable scum.”
“Perhaps,” Gideon replied cautiously, “but certainly some scum are worse than others.”
The paladin appeared to consider this for a moment, then he shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve never really thought much about it.”
“Oh, really?” Gideon narrowed his eyes. “If Twareg was truly wise, he would differentiate between them. Wouldn’t he?”
“Twareg is indeed wise,” Silas cried in a near panic. “He acknowledges infinite layers of scum!”
The slaves on the floor below screamed out Twareg’s name in response.
Gideon nodded and turned back toward Slug. “There, now that we’ve settled that.”
Slug crossed his arms in front of him. “And what exactly was your point with that?”
“Err, I’m not entirely sure. But I don’t think we should outright kill him.” Both of the former slaves turned to face Silas. “What say you?” Gideon asked. “You’re the deciding vote.”
“Live or die?” Slug added, his weapon still at the ready.
Silas stopped carving again and glanced their way. “Well, Twareg hates the weak. But then, he also hates the strong. In fact, Twareg hates everyone except his chosen people, even if our former master is small for a dwarf.”
“I’m not a dwarf, you filthy shit-headed...” Dingus seemed to realize what he was saying because he quickly amended it. “What I meant to say was, of course I’m a dwarf. I’m just ... undercover, trying to infiltrate the ... anti-dwarf conspiracy.”
“Do you truly think we are that stup...”
“I knew it!” Silas said, interrupting Slug. “No wonder you were so excellent in choosing my daily labors. Why, my fingers haven’t bled that hard in years. Truly a wonderful experience.”
“Um, you’re welcome?”
“So, then you admit to being one of Twareg’s chosen?”
“Sure, why not?” Dingus replied, grinning the smile of a rat who’s discovered a way out of the trap he’s found himself in. “Hail Twareg.”
“Yes!” Silas shouted. “Hail Twareg!” He turned to the other two. “Release him!”
“But!”
“I said release him. He’s a true believer and no enemy of ours.”
Gideon immediately stepped back, but Slug looked reluctant to allow their former master any quarter.
“You heard him,” Dingus said, his former arrogance back. “I’m a true believer.”
“You’re a liar.”
“And, as a true believer, I demand Twareg’s mercy.”
“What was that?” Silas asked, turning back to him.
“I said, I demand our mighty lord’s mercy.”
Silas clapped his hands together in joy. “Spectacular!” He walked over to Dingus and picked up the Gnome by the back of his robes.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
Silas carried him over to the balcony overlooking the masses below. “As you requested.” He held the gnome over the edge.
“What is this?!” Dingus demanded.
“Twareg’s mercy, of course,” Silas replied. “But, as a true believer, you must already know that Twareg shows none. He expects his followers to be strong and utterly destroy their foes.”
“WHAT?!”
“Your request is granted, my friend. May Twareg grant you the strength to find your own mercy.”
With that, Silas dropped Dingus to the floor below. The gnome landed hard on the polished tile floor, the snap of bones clearly heard above his screams. Within seconds, the crowd of rebelling slaves descended upon their former master and tore him limb from limb.
Silas watched all of this from above with a thoughtful look upon his face.
“What did you do?” Gideon asked as he and Slug stepped to either side of him to view the carnage below.
After several minutes, Silas looked up and faced him. “I begin to suspect that perhaps his faith wasn’t as strong as he claimed.” He turned and began to walk away. “That, and he was awfully small, even for a dwarf.”
BURNING DESIRE
Over the course of the next several days, the slave revolt spread like a cleansing fire from house to house. It didn’t matter whether the masters closed their gates or forced their servants to the deepest parts of their compounds. Word of the rebellion still reached them. And as the word spread, so too did the name of the one who had started that fire – Silas Kane.
This was despite the fact that Silas was seldom seen on the front lines. Slug became the self-appointed general of the revolt in his absence, directing slaves to ransack storage caches for weapons and food.
Silas, for his part, was far more focused on spreading the word of Twareg than anything else. Leading the most zealous of his new conver
ts, he focused on the shrines and temples of Loradain – looting, pillaging, and defiling them regardless of whether they had any strategic value to the revolt or not. In his wake, he left crude symbols of Twareg etched in the walls and painted on the robes of any priests caught unaware and quickly inducted into the ranks of this strange new religion they’d never heard of.
As Silas worked tirelessly to erase a mostly benign religion from Kel, Slug pressed ever forward, eventually attracting the support of the underclass of the city: free men and women who lived in the poorest slums.
Soon, the city guard was forced to act, but by then, the largest houses in Kel were in open revolt. Slave masters were thrown from the highest parapets of their former domains and their homes declared sanctuaries of Twareg.
Only one man on the side of the rebels seemed interested in the concept of restraint but, for the most part, his entreaties fell upon deaf ears.
“You shouldn’t have hanged him,” Gideon implored from deep inside Dingus Glitterfinger’s former compound, now renamed the Free Union of Crusading Knights Indebted to Twareg.
Slug laughed. “Why not? He was one of the masters.”
“He was already dead. You’d torn off his arms, burnt him alive, and then had him flayed.” He turned to where Silas was busy instructing a group of ragged-looking men in the proper methods of self-flagellation.
“...and be sure the leather of the whip is salted first, because that will ensure you feel the sting of Twareg’s disdain...”
“Surely you can talk some sense into him, Silas.”
The paladin turned to the former chief slave. “Excuse me?”
“Slug,” Gideon explained. “Don’t you think he’s going too far with this? We wanted to send a message, not drown the streets in blood and...” He trailed off as he watched Slug put something around his neck. “Dear gods, what is that?”
Slug smiled down at the necklace of fingers he’d adorned himself with. “Spoils of war. This one is from Dingus. This pinky belonged to Robert the Fatuous. I cut this thumb off of Irina the...”
The Silas Kane Scrolls (Authors and Dragons Origins Book 2) Page 7
