The Priest

by Rowan McAllister

  Without waiting for Girik, Tas lifted his chin, climbed off the back of the wagon, and strode toward those eyes. His back was ramrod straight. His stride didn’t falter on the uneven ground, and Girik’s chest filled with pride as he followed, knowing what the effort must have cost him.

  When they were a few feet away from the huddled shapes, Bayor raised his hackles and let out a growl. A small, distinctly feline shadow detached itself from the others and strode toward them. Its eyes still glowed, even after it had turned away from the red embers of the fire. Before Girik could decide how to react, the thing shifted, and the naked woman stood in front of them, her pale skin reflecting the moonlight.

  “Are you hungry now? Do you want me to heat stew for you?”

  “Stew?” Tas asked disbelievingly.

  At least Tas could speak. All Girik seemed able to do was blush and shiver. The thing acted like Girik and Tas chatted with Spawn all the time and saw cats turn into people every day, but something in the quirk of her lips told him she knew the effect she was having and she was enjoying a laugh at their expense.

  “Yes, stew,” she answered calmly. “Yan said you would be hungry and that I’m to be nice to you. This is me being nice.”

  Tas put a hand in the pocket of his robe, and the Spawn watched the movement like a hawk despite her casual, almost mocking tone.

  “I think we would all benefit from you leaving that thing exactly where it is, Priest,” the wizard said as the bundle of blankets by the fire separated itself into the two other men and both climbed to their feet.

  A ball of light appeared in the air above them, even though the wizard made no other movement or sound. Girik and Tas both flinched away from it and blinked hard.

  “Show-off,” Yan muttered under his breath as he moved to the fire pit and stirred up the coals.

  Girik smiled, and some of the tension left his shoulders. He was tempted to help Yan with the fire, but Tas still stood facing the wizard, his body stiff as a fence post.

  “Who are you?” Tas demanded, no hint of weakness in his voice.

  “I’m Lyuc, and this is Yan and Bryn,” the wizard said, nodding at each of his companions in turn. “And your friend there, Girik, called you Tas.”

  “You may call me Brother Tasnerek,” Tas said, pulling the necklace out of his pocket and draping it around his neck.

  Bryn hissed even though she was no longer a cat, and took a few steps backward. The wizard’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned.

  “Are you sure you want to do that, Brother Tasnerek, Thirteen of the Thirty-Six? That thing nearly killed you only a few short hours ago.”

  “Tas?” Girik said, concerned.

  Tas lifted a hand to silence him, never taking his eyes off the wizard and the Spawn.

  “That’s none of your concern, Wizard Lyuc. You are in Rassa now, where my authority as a member of the Brotherhood is sacrosanct. As strangers here, you will answer my questions.”

  Girik threw Tas’s stiff shoulders a skeptical look, but he kept his mouth shut. Flames sprung up from the branches Yan had thrown into the fire, illuminating the young man’s worried expression from below as he watched Tas and Lyuc face off. Girik tried to throw him an apologetic grimace, but no one was really looking at him.

  Tense silence crackled in the air like the spits and pops of the pine branches in the fire. Girik shifted nervously, and Bayor tensed at his side. Tas was bluffing, of course. The man could barely walk, let alone conjure anything, and Girik had a very strong feeling the wizard knew it.

  “Lyuc,” Yan said softly from his place by the fire.

  The wizard turned a gaze filled with so much warmth and affection on the young man, Girik had to swallow against a sudden lump in his throat. The wizard smiled and rolled his eyes, before turning back to Tas. Hopefully Tas missed that part because that would put his hackles up higher than Bayor’s.

  “Ask away, Priest. But I would request, for the comfort of all of us present, that you put the stone out of sight… please.”

  Only someone watching closely would have seen the slight relaxing of Tas’s shoulders as Lyuc bent and shook out one of the blankets they’d been huddled in. The wizard spread the blanket on the ground, stepped back from it, and bent to retrieve another one.

  After shaking that one too and spreading it out, he offered the first to Tas and Girik. “Sit. We’ll heat some stew for you. You have to be hungry. And we’ll make some tea for all of us.” Lyuc turned to the still very naked, voluptuously endowed woman-Spawn standing a few yards away. “Bryn, do you want to stay for this, or would you rather take a bit of a run?”

  Blushing despite his best efforts to appear indifferent to her continued lack of clothing, Girik forced himself to look at Bryn from the neck up. Her eyes never left the necklace around Tas’s neck. Girik might have thought she wanted the stone for herself, except her expression was anything but covetous. She watched it like the thing was a snake ready to bite her.

  She studied her fingernails for a few seconds before one of them elongated into a blackened claw that she tapped her lip with as if pondering the question. After a moment, she sighed and said, “If all you’re going to do is play nice with the little priest, then I think a walk sounds a little less stiflingly dull, I suppose.”

  “With your permission, of course,” Lyuc said, nodding to Tas, “I’d like to send her back to your friend’s village with the head.” Lyuc turned to face Girik directly. “You said they’d need proof or they’d send more brothers.”

  Tas shot Girik a look, and Girik winced. This was why he didn’t like to be the one making decisions. How was he to know what he should and shouldn’t tell the strangers?

  “He was going to destroy the whole thing, so I just said we needed some sort of proof for the village or they wouldn’t know they were safe now,” Girik defended.

  Tas sighed and rubbed his forehead, letting go of some of his façade. “More will come anyway at this point. I’ll need to go back to stop it.”

  “But you said—” Girik caught himself and clamped his mouth shut.

  “We’ll talk later,” Tas said softly before turning back to Lyuc. “Who are you?”

  “I believe I already answered that one.”

  “Lyuc.” Yan looked up from tending to a cooking pot and held the wizard’s gaze, and Lyuc gave him a sheepish smile and a wink in return.

  “As you’ve already surmised, Brother Tasnerek, we are a small traveling party of strangers to Rassa, made up of a wizard—as you’ve chosen to name me—a Spawn, who is my friend and so much more than the title implies, and an exceptionally wise, brave, and kind young man”—he winked at Yan again—“none of whom mean you or your kingdom any harm. We came here hunting Spawn. Now that we have accomplished our goal, we can turn right back around and leave you to your own business… but I have a feeling that is not truly what you need right now.”

  “What I need is to understand what is going on here. You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t simply take your word that you mean no harm,” Tas replied acidly.

  “I will answer your questions, Brother,” Lyuc replied with a sigh, “only may I send Bryn on her way first? She has been very patient.”

  Girik glanced at Bryn in time to see the woman preen a little, but then Yan snorted behind him, and Bryn shot him a sour look.

  “The village is a day’s walk away,” Girik ventured into the silence.

  “Not for me,” Bryn replied, preening again.

  “Brother,” Lyuc said loudly enough to draw everyone’s wandering attention, “shall she go or not?”

  “She won’t be seen?” Tas asked.

  Bryn huffed, but Lyuc simply said, “No. She’ll leave it where it will be found and come back. That’s all.”

  After a few moments of silence in which Tas appeared to struggle with himself, he nodded cautiously. “All right. It might help for them to know the Spawn is dead.” Bryn disappeared into the shadows behind the trees while Tas was still speaking, but Tas was
too focused on the wizard to notice. “I need to speak to you about that too. If you killed it, you released the Wraith, and that is dangerous for anything in its path.”

  Yan cleared his throat loudly, so Tas missed Lyuc’s next eye roll completely. Girik had a feeling Yan did it on purpose, and he found himself liking the man more and more. How did an ordinary person keep himself sane with so much strangeness? Girik feared he might have to take lessons before too long.

  “Stew’s hot,” Yan said a little too brightly in trade tongue. He spooned a large helping into a wooden bowl and walked it over to where Tas sat. “You have to be starving after the day you’ve had.”

  “Thank you,” Tas replied, switching easily into trade tongue too. Some of the hard edges of his voice softened a little when he spoke to Yan, and Girik felt just the slightest twinge of jealousy.

  Tas set the bowl in front of him without taking a bite and stared at Lyuc, waiting.

  After casting a quick sideways glance at Yan, Lyuc said, “Are you sure you want to have this discussion, Brother? You may not like what I have to say.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE WIZARD’S words hung ominously in the air, but Tas didn’t let any of his unease show. He might have broken faith with the Brotherhood, but he still had some pride in his office. If these creatures posed a threat to Rassa—and he couldn’t see how a rogue wizard and a Spawn wouldn’t—he had to do something about it. What he would do remained to be seen, since, at the moment, he could barely stay standing without shaking with fatigue.

  Tasnerek had stopped humming angrily on his chest, indicating the Spawn had left the vicinity. That was good. At least he only had the wizard and his companion to contend with if things escalated. Guilt made him cast a quick sideways glance at Girik before returning his full attention to the immediate threat in front of him. He should have tried to make Girik leave again. There was no reason for both of them to remain in danger—not that Girik had listened to him last time, wonderful, stubborn man.

  “I’m sure I won’t like what you have to say, Wizard, but if the Wraith is out there, we could all be in danger.”

  The wizard sighed. “My name is Lyuc. Wizard is such an ugly term, particularly when coming from the mouth of a member of the Brotherhood. Harot managed to make it into almost a curse, so I’d rather you didn’t apply it to me.” He pulled a small crystal from the pocket of his robe and lifted it up to his magic ball of light. Smoke swirled inside it, shifting almost angrily in its depths. “Here is your Wraith, Brother Tasnerek. This is a capture crystal, much like what the mages from the Scholomagie in Samebar still use today. The Wraith is quite contained. It poses no one any danger now. When we’ve traveled farther into the mountains and out of this accur—Rassa, I will deal with it as it should be dealt with, unlike what you and your brothers do.”

  Tas was so busy staring at the crystal, it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up. When it did, his face heated and he glared at the wizard. “What is that supposed to mean? We destroy the Spawn, Wraith and all. The Hymn of Cleansing and Unmaking has kept our people safe for hundreds of years.”

  “Actually, it hasn’t,” Lyuc countered calmly. “You separate the Wraith from its host, yes, but you don’t destroy it. You release it, only to have it come back at you again in another body, as you were chastising me about a few moments ago.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  If Tas had had the strength, he would have shot to his feet. Girik and Bayor shifted anxiously behind him. Propped up by their presence at his back, he glared at the wizard, but Lyuc only shrugged.

  “I told you that you would not like what I had to say.”

  “You’re lying,” Tas repeated a little more calmly. “When a member of the Thirty-Six leaves, the Spawn is destroyed and the people are safe. If the Wraith wasn’t destroyed, it would come back to terrorize the towns and villages and we’d know.”

  “In all of my years on Kita, I have never discovered a means of destroying a Wraith. The best that anyone can do is send them back from where they came. Your stones and songs tear the Wraith free and weaken it to the point that it takes years, sometimes decades for the thing to recover. But believe me, it does recover. Most flee to other kingdoms, having learned their lesson. No Spawn wants to be anywhere near even a shard of Anchor Stone. And in the end, most leave inhabited lands altogether to avoid the various means of containment the mages at the Scholomagie or Gorazhan’s witches have discovered as well. That’s when I find them and finish the job.”

  The man was so smug, Tas wanted to punch him in his ginger-speckled beard. He definitely didn’t want to believe a word Lyuc said, but a niggle of doubt wormed its way inside him. Since Spawn took a new body when their Wraiths were released, how would anyone know if they were fighting the same Spawn they’d vanquished a decade ago or more?

  “Faelir speaks truth, human.”

  Tas jolted. His stomach twisted and he closed his eyes. “Not now.”

  “Tas? Are you all right?” Girik scooted closer and placed steadying hands on Tas’s shoulders.

  “What is it?” the young man, Yan, said from farther away.

  Tas gritted his teeth and gathered what strength he had left to battle with the stone again.

  “Calm, human.”

  A feeling of regret emanated from his link with the stone.

  “You nearly killed me,” Tas thought directly at the stone.

  “I was… overzealous, not quite awakened. I sensed abomination and sought to neutralize it.”

  “At the expense of my life?”

  That had originally been Tas’s plan as well, but he didn’t at all like someone else making that decision for him… or taking that decision from him by force.

  After a brief pause, Tas felt what he could only describe as the emotional equivalent of a shrug travel over their link. This was not comforting in the slightest.

  “Tas, what’s going on?” Girik whispered worriedly.

  When Tas opened his eyes, he found Lyuc watching him intently and frowning.

  “Faelir speaks truth,” Tasnerek repeated.

  With a groan of defeat, Tas slumped back into Girik’s embrace. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t pretend to be confident and strong. Was every truth he’d ever been taught going to be ripped out from under him?

  Quanna, Moc, and Chytel, why? Why have you taken my whole world apart?

  “So you may build another, better one,” Tasnerek replied without an ounce of pity coloring his tone.

  In a fit of pure infantile temper, Tas ripped the chain from around his neck and tossed the stone away from him. If he’d had the strength, he would have stomped off in the opposite direction and shouted what he thought to anyone who’d listen, including the gods, but he was just so tired.

  “Brother Tasnerek,” Lyuc said sharply, all teasing gone, “what is happening?”

  The wizard eyed him warily as he moved in front of Yan, as if to shield him.

  It was Tas’s turn to roll his eyes. As if in his current state he was a threat to anyone.

  “What’s happening is that I give up. That’s what’s happening,” Tas answered peevishly. “I’m done. You win. Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

  “Tas,” Girik whispered as he wrapped Tas tighter in his arms and pressed his cheek to the top of Tas’s head.

  As humiliating as it should be to be cradled in someone’s lap like a small child while potential enemies looked on, Tas couldn’t find the will to worry about it anymore. Girik’s warmth was a blessing on his aching body, and the man’s strength stopped Tas from feeling he might come apart at the seams any moment. Girik was solid, dependable, and real. He’d never lied to Tas or betrayed him.

  While Tas glared defiantly at Lyuc, as if all of this were his fault, Lyuc exchanged a puzzled glance with his companion and then moved to sit back where he’d been before Tas’s outburst.

  “What brought this sudden change of heart? A moment ago you were calling me a liar
,” Lyuc said, studying Tas as if he were some strange creature in a menagerie.

  “I was informed that you were telling me the truth,” Tas answered in a huff.

  The wizard’s gaze grew wary again. “By whom?”

  Tas glanced in the direction he’d thrown the stone. What did it matter anymore? Tasnerek was obviously on the wizard’s side.

  “By him, Tasnerek.”

  Lyuc’s eyes widened and he stilled. The wizard’s light above their heads snuffed out, leaving them with nothing but fire and moonlight to see by. Girik tensed behind him as Tas stared at the wizard.

  “The stone spoke to you?”

  The wizard’s voice sounded strained, almost afraid, and Tas’s stomach twisted. “Yes.”

  “Has this happened before?”

  “Only in the last few days, never before that.”

  The wizard still hadn’t so much as twitched. It was becoming very unnerving.

  “What did it say?”

  “It said you were telling the truth. Or, more accurately, he said, ‘Faelir speaks truth.’ I assumed he meant you, since you were the one talking.”

  The wizard lurched to his feet, a look of horror on his face in the flickering firelight.

  “Lyuc?” Yan called, his voice filled with concern.

  The wizard swallowed visibly and shook his head. “Gods above and below, no. It can’t be.”

  “Lyuc, you’re scaring me,” Yan said in Gorazhani as he moved toward his companion, but Lyuc was staring off in the direction Tas had thrown the stone.

  “I didn’t know. How could I have known?”

  “Lyuc, please, what is it?” Yan pleaded.

  While both Tas and Girik sat frozen on the ground, the wizard finally turned toward Yan and placed a hand on the young man’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I need some time. I need to think. I need—I don’t know what I need. Just give me a little while.”