Cursed Cleric

by Salvador Mercer

  “Should I bite him?” Tyra asked Elister.

  “No,” Elister answered rather too seriously for comfort and the trio of live humans stood in silence waiting for the druid to initiate their next course of action. “He’s listening to me now and being a good boy.”

  Tyra only snorted blowing even more rock chips off of Elister’s body and causing a large, billowing cloud of snow to blow off the ground below her nostrils. Finally, Targon asked, “What now?”

  “I’m waiting for you to ask me why we knocked down their wall,” Elister said.

  Khan spoke quietly, “I am curious to know why the dragon breathed on the undead when it would be ineffective as a weapon.”

  There was a pause when Salina finally chimed in, “Well I’d like to know why Tyra finds Khan boring and Targon fun.”

  “What?” both Targon and Khan asked looking at her from her left.

  Elister held up his hand and stopped everyone from talking further. “That’s enough. Too many questions, but I’ll try to answer quickly then we must leave. There is much to do.” Seeing nods and no objections, he continued, “The wall was destroyed in order to allow the undead army to exit Ulatha and enter Kesh. The dragon is young still and acted instinctually, Khan, so give her a bit of leeway when judging her actions. That is why I have paired our Zashitor, our Ranger here, with Tyra to help. Finally, Khan is boring and Targon is fun for Tyra because… well, because Khan is boring and Targon is fun.”

  The group stood in stunned silence for a moment longer before Khan spoke, “I am not boring.”

  The unexpected answer came from Tyra herself, “Yes you are… very boring too.”

  Chapter 3

  Kesh Redemption

  “Tell me why I should not kill you now.”

  Zorcross felt the intense gaze of the disfigured High Mage even through his critir that sat on a three-legged iron stand placed directly in front of him. He wasn’t expecting the questioning to turn into an inquisition nor to have his life threatened so suddenly. Thinking quickly, he responded, “My Lord, I have held Ulsthor as you ordered for the better part of half a year now. How can you be cross with me for fulfilling your last order and command?”

  The gaze intensified and Zorcross wondered if the master critir in the Chamber of Seeing, was able to magically intensify such a thing. Am-Tor spoke in measured words, “You informed me that Ulsthor is under siege.”

  “Siege yes,” Zorcross answered, “But not taken. The town is protected and under our control.”

  “Yet the production facilities and trade have stopped and many of our merchants and tradesmen were murdered.” Am-Tor leaned in too closely and only one of his eyes were visible in the critir. Fortunately for Zorcross, it was the eye that remained firmly seated in the High Mage’s skull socket.

  “A temporary situation, Master,” Zorcross began. “If you remember, I informed you that we needed reinforcements in order to implement an attack on Ulatha again—”

  The High Mage interrupted him, “You were given three wizards and a new army, you incompetent fool.”

  “Begging your pardon, Master, but it was of a brigade and the three wizards you sent were newly promoted, barely apprentices a few months ago.”

  “As were you, if I remember correctly,” Am-Tor shot back. “It is a wonder that Kesh even exists considering the incompetence of our order. What is the status of Kusko?”

  “He is critically wounded, My Lord. It can go either way for him in the next day or two. The special physician here is doing everything he can to save the man.”

  “And Kasos?”

  “Buried as ordered with a proper ceremony,” Zorcross responded. “Did Kyros arrive in Keshtor yet?”

  The High Mage leaned back allowing his full countenance to fill Zorcross’ orb. The offset jaw was bad enough, as was the crushed dimple in the man’s forehead, but seeing his right eye hanging from its socket forced the lesser wizard to suppress a gag. Whether Am-Tor knew what effect his appearance had on others and didn’t care, or whether he was ignorant was a question that may never be answered. Finally, the High Mage spoke with greater control again. “He just arrived and was duly imprisoned along with that fool apprentice of yours.”

  Zorcross knew, but was powerless to ask, “Hermes?”

  “None other.”

  “I see,” Zorcross said, keeping still and hoping that the High Mage’s wrath would spare him.

  “Do you?” Am-Tor asked.

  Zorcross stifled to urge to say I see better than you with one of your eyes dangling from its socket, but instead he performed a few quick calculations in his head with regards to how best to respond before saying. “You are right in all your assessments, Master. I can only work to advance your cause and ensure the success of our great realm before the arrival of Dor Akun. Is there something specific you wish of me?”

  Am-Tor leaned in again and Zorcross stifled the release of his breath not wanting his superior to note his own relief at having not to look upon the grotesque countenance any longer. Speaking with much greater control now, the High Mage said, “Perhaps I should entrust the next assault on Ulatha to you.”

  Zorcross nodded in deference to his Master, but to also hide his face so that only his words would convey what he was truly feeling. “It would be an honor, my Master.”

  “Who would you recommend as your new Commander?”

  Once sure that his facial expressions would not betray him, Zorcross lifted his head and looked back at his leader. “Is Captain Cregg still available?”

  Am-Tor frowned and Zorcross feared that the man saw his own fear, terror, and shock at attacking Ulatha again, much less leading it an attack on the cursed realm. Between the undead, led by a fearsome creature that could not die, and the Ghost of Ulatha, the famed rebel woodsman that cut Kesh troops down by the dozen, it seemed like suicide. The report of a dragon only cemented the fear and confusion in every Kesh soldier, citizen, and wizard in Ulsthor where the news was quickly spreading. Keshtor would soon learn of these developments and Zorcross had no idea how the High Mage would maintain order once that happened.

  With some effort, the High Mage spoke, “Cregg is occupied at the moment.”

  Zorcross could only guess at what the High Mage meant by that. The man referred to him by name only with no title. Both Captain Cregg and Kyros had returned to Keshtor, the Kesh capital, and from this conversation it was obvious that the wizard was now locked away in the special dungeon with Hermes that was reserved for magic users. Thinking on his feet he asked, “What about Commander Hork?”

  “Interesting,” Am-Tor said. “He lost Korwell along with Hermes and yet you ask?”

  Zorcross noted the use of the common name for the ancient capital of Ulatha, Utandra. Whether by design or intent, the usage would stand. Zorcross would not correct his superior. “We may wish to rethink our strategy in light of current events. Hork is still an accomplished leader if his punishment has not been too… severe.”

  Am-Tor understood exactly what his servant was inferring. “Hork is alive and well, though under some stress at the moment. He could be made available again, but what would prevent another failure from him?”

  Zorcross had alarms ringing in his head. The High Mage was being far too forgiving and the pleasantry with which he now spoke seemed to carry more danger than when the man was verbally abusive and berating a servant. “New leadership?”

  “Hmm,” Am-Tor said, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. “You are either very clever or arrogant… or both.”

  “I think only of our realm and the greatness that belongs to you specifically and Kesh in general.”

  This seemed to assuage the High Mage’s wrath and Am-Tor said. “Very well then. I will send Hork to you and your first task will be to liberate Ulsthor from this… from this siege that you have informed me is now underway. Clear the lands all around Ulsthor and retake the Ulathan Pass for Kesh. See to it personally or I will find a special place for you here in Keshtor near me.”


  Zorcross nodded his head understanding that his leader was referring to the dungeons near the Onyx Tower. “As you command, Master.”

  “One more thing,” Am-Tor said. “We need to enlist the Northmen again to our side. We will need someone we can trust to do this. You must delegate this task and see to it that we have our ranks replenished quickly and our northern border secure again.”

  Clearing his throat, Zorcross said, “Master, the Eagle Clan of the North will not fight for us further. They have returned to their ancestral home and have gone far beyond my ability to see them.”

  “That is because you are weak,” Am-Tor said, a hint of disgust in his voice. “I see everything, and your words are true, however, there are more clans that are even now assembling for winter raids before the heavy snow falls. We must ensure that our northern border is safe and at the same time enlist enough of the Northmen to ensure victory in Ulatha and Rockton.”

  Hearing of Rockton piqued Zorcross’ curiosity, “Speaking of the south, what news, if any, have you of Am-Shee?”

  Am-Tor didn’t hesitate in answering, “The rebel magic-user was sent scurrying back to his hidey hole in the Southern Mountains after his ill-advised attack on me and my seat of power. After losing his traitorous spy, that no good for nothing Alister, he has no further way to cause trouble. You should not ask of him further. He is no longer a threat.”

  Zorcross nodded but that wasn’t what he had heard. The rumors that had spread across the land indicated that the great Arch Mage, Am-Shee, was nearly successful in removing the High Mage from his seat of power. Only the newly found power of the man’s dragon skull artifact atop his staff, and the power of the Onyx Tower had saved his position as the supreme leader of the Kesh. Instead of indicating any of this, Zorcross simply said, “Understood, Master.”

  “Then see to it that you secure the services of two clans this time. It is obvious that only one clan will not suffice after the debacle that your apprentice oversaw this fall.”

  Hating to clear his throat over and over, but fearful that his voice would falter in mid-sentence, Zorcross coughed and then said, “Understanding the failures of my apprentice, I would still like to request his services as a translator since the few we had this year have perished.”

  The High Mage lifted his eye brows wide almost causing Zorcross to gag at the sight. “That stupid fool? You cannot be serious.”

  “Think of him as an interpreter, Master. He is the only person I can think of who can communicate efficiently with the barbarians of the north.”

  Am-Tor lowered his gaze which allowed his floating eye to spring gently back into its socket. “I suppose you will be wanting to give him yet another staff?”

  “It would benefit the mission and thus our cause.”

  “How many has the fool lost so far?”

  “Hard to say, Master. I have not kept track but two at least if not three.”

  Am-Tor brought a hand up to his chin and rubbed it while contemplating the request. After a moment he said, “Was Kasos’ staff brought back with him?”

  “It was, Master.”

  “Then I will grant your request one final time. Give this fool the staff that you have from Kasos and see to it that he either succeeds or dies.”

  Lowering his head, Zorcross replied, “As you wish, Master.”

  “I will send the fool to you along with Hork and a real army this time. See to it that Kesh is completely liberated from any enemy, alive or undead.”

  Keeping his head low, Zorcross said, “I will. What army will you send, Master?”

  “I have kept things in motion during my brief time in Keshtor. Leave the details to me but understand this. If you fail me then the penalty will be severe. I fully intend to see that the former High Mage’s plan is implemented and the Staff of Alore will be secured once and for all. Kesh will dominate Agon again and take its proper place at the head of all the lesser realms.”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  “Now go and kill those outside the gates and do it yourself. See to it that the land is cleansed from this walking abomination.”

  “And the undead king that rules them?” Zorcross asked, his boldness showing slightly at the reference to what has now become an arch enemy.

  Am-Tor laughed then said, “Leave that rotting, walking corpse of what was once a great wizard to me. I will see to it that in the end he, and his walking undead army, serve Kesh one last time.”

  The critir faded and Zorcross held his breath until he realized he was plunged into darkness and had to reach for his staff and cause a small amount of illumination in order to see again. He would go to the front gates and cast a few fireballs to meet the rigid order of his leader. The man could watch him to see if he complied or not and Zorcross would not make the mistake of lesser wizards and find himself on the opposite side of the High Mage’s good graces.

  Zorcross would cast his magic.

  “This is all your fault.”

  “You’ve said that every day for the past month.”

  “I mean it this time, Hork. How could you lose an entire city?”

  Hork leaned back on the rickety chair, ensuring it was stable enough to hold his weight while kicking at the stone floor in his usual sweeping motion with his dirty, black boot. “I’d hardly call that backwater town a city. Besides, the supreme leader of any mission is always the wizard leading it. You should know that by now, Hermes.”

  Hermes allowed the disrespect by his captor in not referring to him as Master or some other such appropriate title. He did not know it, but he was incarcerated in the very same cell as an Ulathan wood-woman who recently escaped. The L shaped free area surrounded his sparse cell and only a window high above him, one located at foot level outside, granted him light enough to tell if it was day or night in his realm. “I still think your lack of leadership with our troops had more to do with our loss of Korwell.”

  “As opposed to your failure in your fight against the undead king?”

  “I suppose you think you would fare better?”

  Hork shook his head. “I’d be dead for sure against a monstrosity like that. One is wise to flee in the face of certain doom.”

  “See!” Hermes stopped his pacing in his cell and stuck a long, bony arm out from between two bars to point at his captor. “You admit to running away like a coward.”

  Hork had tired long ago of the man’s allegations so he ignored the intended barb which questioned his courage instead saying, “If I recall correctly, you were running faster than the rest of us and without your staff… again.”

  Hermes snorted. “You had to bring that up again, did… did not you?”

  “Didn’t you,” Hork corrected.

  “That is what I said.”

  “Hardly.”

  Hermes face tightened and his veins started to bulge from his neck and temples. After a moment, he withdrew his arm and pointed finger. With a final glare he resumed his pacing and addressed the once former Kesh commander. “Enjoying your new duties as dungeon master?”

  “It won’t work,” Hork said, stifling a yawn and hoping he wouldn’t be subject to another verbal flogging by the once haughty magic-user. “I much prefer being on this side of the iron then your side.”

  Hermes stopped again and resumed his finger pointing through the bars. “You have an insolent side to you that was not apparent when you were a real commander. Pray I do not get my hands on a staff again. If I do I would most certainly vaporize you.”

  “If you didn’t lose your staff again and even if you did, I would welcome the warmth that you would send my way with one of your small fireballs.”

  “Why you…”

  “I know.”

  Hermes withdrew his arm for the hundredth time that week and resumed pacing. He had no other thought than finding a way to obtain another staff and take his place at the front of the wizard caste. “You seem to have fared better than I and this has affected your judgement.”

  “Perha
ps.”

  “Oh, it most definitely has. I can see one of my brothers blasting you and your insolent tongue to smithereens one day soon… Most definitely one day soon.”

  “Then I will be released from my current duties and free to live in peace and quiet,” Hork said, allowing his chair to drop back onto all four legs, tired of his balancing act.

  “You will not live in peace and quiet, you will be dead.”

  “Then I will rest in peace and quiet as a dead commander.”

  Hermes scoffed again, “I will see to it that your rank is stripped, and you will rest as a dead trooper, not an exalted commander.”

  “As you wish.”

  Hermes stopped pacing and looked at the man understanding that it was futile to engage him. The once proud commander was relegated to lead dungeon guard and ordered to personally oversee Hermes’ own incarceration despite his pleadings to the High Mage. “What was that?”

  The sound of clanging this early in the morning was rare and despite the large size of the dungeon, there were few prisoners. Rumors were that most had died during the Kesh civil war and there hadn’t been time to repopulate the many cells below. The stomping of boots nearing and growing louder got even Hork’s attention. “I think someone is coming for you.”

  “For us,” Hermes said. “Maybe even just you.”

  The sound was louder and Hork took action, standing from his leisurely position on his rickety chair to unlock and open the room’s iron bound door. Standing aside it took a few moments for a pair of guards to enter followed by the major domo of the Onyx Tower while several more guards stood at attention outside. “Hermes.”

  “Ack,” Hermes said, moving to the far wall. “Stay away from me Edward.”

  “The High Mage has summoned you.”

  “No,” Hermes said. “I can’t be executed like this. It is not my time.”

  Edward stood quietly waiting patiently for the fearful wizard to finish his melodramatic act. When Hermes stopped moving and stood quietly against the far wall, Edward spoke, “As much as I’d like to see your execution, it appears that your Master, Zorcross, has requested your service… one last time.”