by Jon Bender
“On what business?”
“Tell him that I have some information for him on the matter we discovered up north. He will know what it means.”
The guard who had spoken looked over his shoulder to another and nodded approval. Sometime later, he returned and told Da’san that the captain would meet him in his office. The guard led him through the gates and into the palace barracks. After several turns, they arrived at a plain wooden door where his escort knocked. A yell to enter issued from the other side, and Da’san walked into a well-lit room with a sturdy desk at its center.
Cribble sat behind the desk wearing his chainmail. He sat silently, watching, until Da’san closed the door firmly behind him. “Da’san. I was not expecting to see you so soon.” Cribble said.
“I was wondering what information you have on the disappearances.”
Cribble leaned back and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Not much, unfortunately. We have counted over a hundred of them, but that doesn’t include unreported cases. Some of the men have noticed that there are fewer beggars about the streets, especially in the poorer areas of the city. Whoever is doing this may be targeting people who won’t be missed. Why? What do you know about it?”
“There are rumors among the churches that dark priests are responsible. I think we have to assume that Or’Keer is trying to establish a foothold in Ale’adar,” Da’san said.
“That is unlikely. The Guard would have heard of something about that,” Cribble said, waving a hand dismissively.
“Not necessarily,” Da’san said. “The poorer people do not trust in the Guard as they do the Temples. We hear things that you may not,” Da’san said. Cribble nodded. The poorer class would not often speak to the authorities for fear of retribution from the street gangs or more disreputable guilds. They would, however, seek guidance from the priests.
“So what do you propose? I could increase patrols and conduct random searches, but that has never been effective in the past,” Cribble said.
“I do not think we should tip our hand that we are aware that it is Or’Keer. We need to capture one of his priests,” Da’san said. He described his original plan.
Cribble laughed. “What were you wearing when you went on these little excursions?” he asked.
Da’san looked down at his blue robes. The priests of Sarinsha had few personal possessions and no other clothing. If the kidnappers were targeting those who would not be missed, Da’san’s robes would make him unattractive prey. His realization must have been evident on his face because Cribble started laughing again.
“It was a good plan, but I do not think you are suited to matters of subversion. I will assign some men to go out in civilian clothes to attempt to capture the kidnappers…”
“No,” Da’san said cutting him off. “We do not know if any among the Guard have been influenced. It should be me, you, and Jerup.”
Cribble scowled at the suggestion that any of the Guard could be worshipers of Or’Keer, but he nodded his head in agreement. “Very well. Jerup is off duty right now. I’ll give you his address. We’ll meet at a tavern called the Twisted Mug after dark. Make sure you get some different clothes.” The captain scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Da’san. “Tell him not to bring his sword. We don’t want to scare anyone,” he said with a smile.
Da’san made his way through the city, passing people who kept their heads down and hurried by. The feel of the streets was one of quiet fear, as if everyone expected to be suddenly attacked and dragged away. Jerup lived in an area of the city populated by successful merchants and traders. The simple stone house was well maintained with new white paint on the door and shutters.
His knock was answered by a middle-aged woman with long black hair tied up in a bun. Her soft brown eyes and warm smile greeted him with openness. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I am looking for Guardsman Jerup,” Da’san replied.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Da’san of the Sarinsha temple,” he replied and was startled when she grabbed him in a hug.
“Jerup has told me about you,” she said, releasing him. “He told me about all of you. I am so glad you decided to visit us. Please come in, come in” she said. Her smile growing bigger as she gestured.
“Thank you,” he said, stepping into the house.
“Honey, one of your friends is here to see you,” she yelled into the house. Da’san cringed slightly at the power of her voice.
“Which friend?” Jerup called back before stepping out of a side room. Walking over, he offered his hand and shook Da’san’s firmly. “Glad you decided to take me up on my offer. You will not be disappointed. Eleanor is the finest cook in the city.” His wife tried to shush him from behind, but Jerup ignored her modesty.
“Sadly, that is not the only reason I came.”
“Oh?” Jerup said. “I am afraid we have some lingering business from the north.” Jerup’s face grew serious. “If you will excuse us, my dear, I think our young priest has much to tell me.”
“Of course,” she said lightly. As she walked by, Jerup pinched her bottom.
Whipping around, she slapped him hard on the shoulder, her face bright red from embarrassment. “Not when we have company,” she said. Jerup laughed, and she slapped his shoulder again while giving Da’san a smile of an apology. “I am sorry for my husband’s crude manner. He is not fit to be around decent people like you.”
While she was talking, Da’san gave Jerup a pinch on the rear of his own. He jumped from the floor in shock, rubbing at the spot and staring at Da’san in amazement. “Do not worry, my lady. Perhaps, with Sarinsha’s help, I can teach him some humility,” he said smiling.
Eleanor laughed at her husband’s discomfort. “If you can do that, I would forever be in your debt, but I do not think even Sarinsha could teach this one humility,” she said then left them alone in the small hallway.
“Follow me,” Jerup said grumpily, still rubbing his backside. He led Da’san into a room with three cushioned chairs and a bookshelf filled with books. Picking up an open book he must have been reading from one of the seats, Jerup sat down and indicated Da’san should do the same.
Da’san told him everything he had told Cribble about the disappearances and his suspicion that Or’Keer was ultimately responsible for them. He also relayed Cribble’s instructions that they meet at the Twisted Mug, unarmed. Jerup clearly disapproved, but he nodded his understanding.
“Dark is still some hours off, so we have time to eat before we go. You will need some other clothes,” Jerup said.
Da’san looked down at his simple blues robes. “Yes, I suppose I will have to find a tailor.”
“No need. I have some that you can borrow for tonight. They may be a bit big on you, but they should do for one night,” Jerup replied.
Da’san looked at Jerup appraisingly. “I think they will be more than a bit big, my friend.”
“You could always pray for larger muscles,” Jerup replied with a grin. “Perhaps, but Sarinsha wishes her followers to use their heads for something other than smashing down doors,” Da’san said without missing a beat.
Jerup stroked his black beard with a hand. “Bah, you priests are too smart for your own good. Let us go see if we can’t find you something suitable.”
A little while later, Da’san emerged wearing a pair of simple brown pants and a white shirt, with a long dagger belted at his side. He had not wanted to accept the blade without knowing how to use it, but Jerup had explained that no one walked into a tavern without some kind of protection. The small weight felt awkward on his hip.
They spent the rest of the afternoon around Jerup’s table enjoying Eleanor’s fine cooking. The Guardsman had not overestimated his wife’s abilities. Da’san had never had such flavorful roast duck before in his life. Being a follower of Sarinsha herself, Eleanor had asked him to give a blessing before they ate. Happy to oblige, Da’san prayed to Sarinsha to protect the
family when they were in need. Feeling the warmth of his goddess flood through him, he knew that she had heard and accepted the request. Jerup’s two children, the boy Arrin who was nine and the girl Mela who was twelve, peppered him with questions ranging from what it was like talking to a god to how their daddy had killed monsters in the forest. Da’san answered all of them as best he could before their mother quieted them to let their guest eat in peace. By the time the table had been cleared and the children sent off to play, the sun had set outside the window. Jerup kissed his wife goodbye, and she hugged him for a long time. Da’san marveled at her strength. She had married Jerup knowing that his job put him in danger, and that one night he might not come back. Still, she had vowed to love him. Da’san thought she could match any soldier for bravery.
Outside, the streets were quickly emptying of people. Jerup led them to the tavern where they found Cribble. Dressed in plain clothing sitting at a table to the side, he was rolling some dice in front of him while sipping from a mug. Jerup walked up to the man and placed a coin purse on the table.
“Care for a game, friend?” Jerup asked.
“If you don’t mind losing your money,” Cribble grumbled.
They sat at the table, and Jerup ordered two more drinks for them. When the drinks arrived, the young woman placed a mug in front of Da’san, but he merely eyed it. “Drink it,” Jerup said under his breath. Deciding that violating the oath this one time served the greater purpose, he brought the mug to his lips. When he tasted only water, he started with surprise, spilling some on the table.
“Forgive my friend,” Jerup said to Cribble. “He’s not much of a drinker.”
“Speak for yourself,” Da’san said, taking a gulp of the water. “I can drink you under the table any day of the week,” he said imitating what he had heard at other such places.
“You two talk too much. Are we gonna play, or what?”
Jerup pulled four coppers from the purse and placed them on the table. Cribble matched the bet and rolled the dice. The two men played the game as more mugs of water arrived, but his friends seemed to be speaking with increased volume and slurring their words as the hours passed. Having no real experiences with drinking, Da’san chose to remain quiet and simply try to appear as if he was affected as well. His two friends continued to argue back and forth, swapping banter and insults until Cribble slammed his palms on the table.
“I have had enough of your cheating,” Cribble said. Standing quickly from the table, he pretended to almost fall over.
“No one has cheated you, friend. This is simply not your game,” Jerup replied, slurring his words.
Cribble grabbed up his coin purse and dice and headed for the door. Da’san moved to follow him, but Jerup placed a hand on his leg, stopping him. Not long after, four men stood from their table and left as well.
“All right, let’s go,” Jerup said.
Leaving the Twisted Mug, Da’san felt the cool night air on his skin. The dim light of the quarter moon and the spaced oil lamps along the streets allowed for some sight in the darkness. The four men who had followed Cribble out of the Tavern were still behind him as he stumbled along. He and Jerup kept pace with the pursuers, but hung back to avoid discovery. Cribble turned down an alley, and the four quickened their pace, forcing the friends into a jog to keep up. By the time they rounded the same corner, the men had caught Cribble, two of them holding tightly to each of his arms. Cribble fought back, struggling to free himself, and received several hits to the face and stomach before he gave up. Da’san started forward to help, but Jerup stopped him.
“These are not the men we want. We need to see where they take him,” he said.
The men led Cribble away. Using only alleys and dark streets, they walked for half an hour before finally stopping in front of a large, empty warehouse. The men dragged Cribble through a door in the side. Jerup led Da’san around to a large set of doors meant to allow wagons access inside. The wood of the doors was rotten and broken with several boards missing, which allowed them to slip through without making any noise. Once inside, they were surrounded by large empty crates. They might once have held fabrics and dyes, but now the containers provided excellent cover.
Da’san and Jerup crept toward the sound of voices in the gloom. Near the center of the building, the light of a lantern sitting on a table came into view, illuminating the area with a harsh yellow glow. Cribble had been propped on an old wooden chair, and Da’san could see the dagger sheath at his waist hung empty. His four captors stood by, waiting. Just outside the circle of light, a dark-robed figure stood speaking to the Captain. Risking discovery, they moved closer to better hear the conversation and be in a position to help their friend when the time came.
“You have a choice, Master Redfield. You can swear now to serve the great god Or’Keer, or we leave your corpse in the sewers for rats to feast on,” the robed figure said.
Cribble leaned back, considering the other man’s words. “Sarinsha will protect me from this god of yours,” he replied.
“The goddess does not have the power in this world that my lord does. She can do nothing for you. If you give yourself over to the god of the dark, he will grant you great power and his protection. All he asks in return is your unquestioning loyalty,” the dark figure said.
“How do I know Or’Keer is what you say he is? I have never heard of him before. For all I know, he is some weakling with only handful of followers. How can I know that he is everything you promise?” Cribble said.
“We number in the tens of hundreds in this city alone,” the figure said in anger. “Soon the whole city will either convert or die.”
“Yes, but--”
“Enough!” the man yelled. “Accept Or’Keer or die. Decide.”
Time had run out. Jerup drew his dagger and crept closer to one of the men. Da’san started to pray. He whispered his prayer to Sarinsha asking her to imbue him with her power and felt her respond as energy quickly filled him. When Jerup was as close as he could get, Da’san released the energy in a shout of power. The wave of sound ripped through the air, throwing crates into the circle of light, knocking over both Cribble and the table holding the lantern. The oil spilled to the ground, catching fire instantly and illuminating the dark figure. He was a common looking man in black robes, someone Da’san would never have given a second thought if he passed him on the street.
Jerup jumped behind one of the four men and drove his dagger into his back. Before the man fell to the ground, Jerup drew the dagger from his belt and slid it across to Cribble. Grabbing up the blade, Cribble rushed toward another of his captors and slammed the dagger into the man’s ribs, embedding it deeply. Da’san heard a chanting coming from the dark priest and realized he was praying. As the final word left his lips, the shadow around him coalesced into four lashing tentacles. Two struck Jerup, throwing him into a pile of empty crates. The third appendage swept at Cribble trying to take the Captain’s feet from underneath him. Cribble dove to the right, tucking his shoulder and rolling to avoid the attack then popping back up to face one of the two remaining thugs. This one carried a large cudgel.
With both guards momentarily occupied, the priest focused his attention on Da’san, sending the tentacles his way. With no chance to avoid them, he shouted again, releasing the remaining energy. The darkness receded slightly, and the other priest staggered before righting himself. Switching tactics, Da’san prayed again, and two large blue glowing hands appeared on either side of him. Flying forward each gripped a tentacle and ripped it away from the priest. Their connection with the darkness severed, the appendages quickly dissipated into the air. The two remaining wrapped around the glowing hands, trying to crush them. Da’san continued his prayer, calling for another gift from his goddess. His next shout was not aimed at the dark priest’s body but at his mind. His opponent cringed, holding his head as a terror he had never felt before gripped him.
The tentacles loosened their hold, allowing the blue hands to gain a gra
sp on them. Da’san looked to how his friends were faring. Cribble was holding his own, ducking and dodging the swings of the other man’s club, the reach of the weapon far greater than the captain’s. Jerup was worse off. His attacker brandished a short sword as his friend tried to untangle himself from the crates. Putting the dark priest from his mind for the moment, Da’san reached out to the attacker and lifted the man from the ground, pinning his arms to his side. Jerup freed himself from the crates, blood smeared across one side of his head, and walked purposefully to the helpless Or’Keer servant. He drove his dagger into the man’s heart, killing him instantly. Da’san released the corpse, letting it drop in a limp pile as the short sword clattered to the ground. Switching his dagger hand, Jerup scooped up the fallen blade and moved to help Cribble, who now cradled his left arm close to his body.
Returning his attention to the dark priest, Da’san found the other man had recovered from his fear and was deep in chant. Even as their two manifestations battled, the darkness seemed to thicken in the warehouse, absorbing the small light of the burning oil. As it grew darker, Da’san realized he would soon be at a severe disadvantage. He needed to strike back quickly and with enough force to end the fight. Once more, he called to his goddess, chanting as fast as he could. Not for the first time, he envied how mages could call on power with a thought. However, the versatility of prayer far outstripped what a mage could accomplish. When the prayer was finished, he released the power in a great ball of light that pushed back the darkness. The dark priest increased the volume and speed of his own prayer and the darkness surged from the corners of the warehouse, attempting to smother the glowing orb.
Da’san closed his eyes, pitting his will against that of the other man. They struggled. Light and darkness ebbed back and forth, each seeking the advantage. Suddenly, the resistance of the dark priest was gone, and the light of his orb flooded the entire building as if the sun had risen inside. Opening his eyes, Da’san saw the remaining hand floating in the air before him. Dismissing the manifestation, he found both his friends standing over the dark priest who lay face down on the ground.
