Cursed Cleric

by Salvador Mercer

  “Why not?” Salina interrupted and pulled away from Targon only because the Ulathan Ranger released his grip on her. She moved around to face the druid’s face which now took up the entire ball.

  Elister sighed. “Your husband took a blood oath and knows not what he did. He intends to find you and keep you from his master and—”

  “What master?” Salina asked, her tone and voice tinged with pain and confusion.

  “Calm yourself,” Elister ordered. “Bran Moross took a blood oath, though he did not understand what he was doing. He must fulfil three tasks in the service of this… of this creature or the lich will control him forever.”

  “How is that possible?” Khan asked, curiosity in his voice and Salina took a second to give him a peculiar look.

  “He gave a blood oath. If he breaks it, he will wither away and die, becoming a servant of the undead lich.” Elister explained.

  “No,” Salina spoke loudly, as Cedric came to her side. “How is it that you’re only now telling me of this?”

  Elister’s face looked said if that was possible, “I only recently learned of this myself. Time runs against us now and you must make haste.”

  “There is a problem,” Khan interrupted, trying to bring the attention back to their plans. “I do not feel the presence of the artifact as you indicated I should. I do not believe the shield of your Ulathan ancestors is here.”

  “You searched the place?” Elister asked.

  “No,” Khan said. “We will do so once we regain our freedom of movement.”

  “You have a plan?” Elister asked.

  Khan nodded, “I will conjure an illusion for the wolves, but I fear it will not be enough; or if it is, it will not be lasting, and they will return within a short period of time.”

  “Very well,” Elister said. “The High Mage searches for you even now and we must break our connection. Wait for sunset. Wait for my sign then act quickly.”

  “Understood,” Khan said as the globe faded, and the light went out. Standing and putting the items back in his bag and then pack, he turned to face Salina. “Do not fear. We will succeed and free your husband from his blood oath.”

  Salina nodded, “I will do so myself and kill this undead king if necessary.”

  No one argued with her.

  Chapter 8

  Backstabbing

  The snow started falling again and Hermes found himself headed back to Ulatha. It was not what he was expecting, nor what he had hoped for. “Why do you look forlorn?”

  The wizard’s apprentice looked to the young woman who asked him that question. She was dressed in ragged, burlap clothes that had holes in the knees of her trousers and the elbows of her shirt. She moved along at a solid pace in order to stay warm along with the rest of the baggage train where he had been relegated to for the time being. His master, Zorcross, would lead the newly formed army and take the glory for himself.

  “What is your name?” Hermes asked.

  “Mia,” the girl answered.

  Hermes felt a tad uncomfortable atop his mount with his robe and a cloak thrown over him to boot. He felt the swaying of his mount and the saddle bags firmly behind his legs and noted how easily he traveled compared to his citizens that were tasked with serving the Kesh army. The young lady was not a slave nor an indentured servant, she was one of the Kesh. One of their own and he noticed that she seemed not to complain nor be angry at her circumstance in life. “How long have you worked in our logistics supply?”

  “Oh, about nine years now,” the girl said, moving quickly to both keep up with the column’s quick pace as well as for warmth.

  “That made you a child then?” Hermes ventured out loud.

  “Pretty much,” the girl said. “Begging your pardon, my Lord, but it’s been a rare treat to have someone of your stature accompanying us folks way back here.”

  Hermes frowned and replied, “See to it that you get a cloak. Never mind, I will handle it myself.”

  The girl seemed to brighten at this and said, “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Hermes urged his horse faster until he reached the lead wagon where the quartermaster was located. “You there, see to it that your worker, Mia, is given a proper cloak for the journey.”

  The man’s eyes went wide, and he replied, “Begging your pardon, Master, but she done lost her last one and as punishment she won’t get another till she’s worked off her debt for the last one.”

  Hermes frowned at the man then said, “She cannot work any debt off if she is dead, can she?”

  The man looked puzzled but responded, “I guess not, Master.”

  “Good, then see to it personally and if I find there has been any further punishment or retribution to her for this cloak then I shall investigate it personally and you will not like me doing that. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good,” Hermes said, kicking his horse to spur it faster along their column. Having reached the lead wagon the next part of their column were the foot soldiers. Hermes rode at a leisurely gallop and in time came to the front of their army.

  “What are you doing up here?” Zorcross asked, though he kept riding at a quick marching pace.

  Hermes nodded at his mentor and tried to ignore the stare he received from Commander Hork, who rode alongside. “I thought you could use some company,” Hermes lied.

  “I have company,” Zorcross stated and both eyes went to Hork who looked away.

  “Not that kind of company,” Hermes tried once more tactfully, “I was referring to one of our order.”

  “There is a reason why I positioned you in the rear,” Zorcross began. “Are you here because your felt slighted at your stature and position within the army and our order?”

  Hermes didn’t like his master hitting so close to home, but the words were true, so he acknowledged them. “To a certain degree… yes. The supply workers can be not only dull, but insufferable as well.”

  Holding a hand up, Hork relayed the non-verbal order with a verbal one of his own, “Company, halt!”

  Turning his horse, Zorcross eyed not only his apprentice, but he looked to the rear of the column that was even now coming to a halt in a long line as the order was relayed visually to everyone. Returning his attention to his apprentice he said, “I suppose, given your circumstances and punishment at the hands of our High Mage, that your actions can be understood if not forgiven.”

  “What actions?”

  “Leaving your post and coming up here,” Zorcross said.

  “My post?” Hermes asked, looking back at the rear now that the entire column had come to a complete stop.

  “You left our rear exposed.” Zorcross sat unmoving on his mount.

  “Exposed to what?”

  “Again,” Zorcross began, “You have not kept up on current events. Our supply wagons have been constantly targeted by the Ulathan rebels. You were engaged with them if my memory still serves me and we are almost to the Ulathan Pass.”

  “I remember,” Hermes said, his eyes opening wide. “That Ghost of Ulatha almost killed me.”

  “Well, he did not,” Zorcross said. “He did, however, target our supplies and that in turn led to the delay in securing our border fort with brick instead of wood. That in turn led to its fall and loss and the invasion of our own land.”

  “I see,” Hermes said.

  “Do you?” Zorcross asked narrowing his eyes. “If you do then you will know the danger that is presented to our supply wagons. I did not place you in the rear to slight you, to the contrary, you were there to protect the rear from attack. One of our order at the front and one at the rear. Once our mission is complete, you were to head north and secure reinforcements from the Northmen.”

  Hermes thought he saw Hork roll his eyes slightly, but his mentor staring at him and expecting a response meant that Hermes would have to ignore the slight, perceived or real that it may be. “I understand now, Master, but what danger could possibly come to us here?”

/>   Suddenly a yell erupted from a spotter within their lead ranks, and the man yelled “Enemy, north!”

  There was a flurry of movement and an all too familiar beast broke from over a small ridgeline north of the road. The huge bear had a rider on it, a cheeky little girl barely in her teens if that, and she road the animal like a rider would mount a horse. They were not alone.

  Following them was an immense line of undead. Most were skeletal in nature, but too many were dead wearing the black leathers of the Kesh, former soldiers that had been turned and animated. Included were at least a half-dozen undead trolls who were ferocious when alive and even more terrifying seeing them dead. They moved with an unfamiliar speed and appeared to be chasing the bear and the girl who most promptly and efficiently led them right into the rear of their formation.

  “You were saying?” Zorcross asked rhetorically. When he received no response from his pupil who sat with his jaw hanging down, he commanded much louder, “Hermes, do something!”

  Hermes spurred his horse and headed down the line while the soldiers turned to face the oncoming horde of undead. His initial target would be the damn bear and its rider, girl or not, but the pair rode through their column and continued southward not bothering to stop nor fight. The undead, however, encountering many of the living which they hated and envied, did engage the helpless servants of the wagon train while Kesh soldiers streamed back east in an attempt to defend them.

  The last thing Hermes heard was his master, Zorcross, telling Hork in a tone and voice too loud for comfort, “The High Mage will not be pleased by this.”

  “Well that should buy us some time,” Horace said, lowering his crossbow and watching the spectacle unfold below them.

  “Sometime, perhaps,” Dareen said. “Let us hope it will be enough.”

  The small group of Ulathan rebels stood where once the wizards of Kesh stood. They were facing east this time on the large, rock-carved ledge to the north of the pass that overlooked both Ulatha to the west, and Kesh to the east. Below them was the remains of the Kesh border fort and wall. Both towers had been destroyed along with the entire wall as if a large child had sat down and threw a temper tantrum. Only pieces of broken and splintered wood remained as a testament to the Kesh’s latest feat of engineering.

  “Amazing what a dragon can do when it wants to,” Mary responded, leaning on her spear.

  “You got that right,” Horace said. “Do you think that young gal will be alright down there amongst them devils, present company excluded of course.”

  “Of course,” Dorsun said, and not for the first nor last time.

  “She will be fine,” Dareen said. “Elister said it’s better to channel her energy than to try to contain it.”

  “What in tarnation is that supposed to mean?” Horace asked.

  “It means she’s hell bent on finding her family and better to let her think she’s doing that with Core to protect her than risk having her try to sneak into Ulsthor on her own and get caught.” Dareen turned to face Horace.

  Horace nodded. “Fine by me then, though I worry for the youngin is all. This does remind me to ask though, why are we here again?”

  Dareen looked at the man, though not knowing him very well, she had become fond of him over the last few months while they were together. “I learned that one of the reasons the High Mage is still in power is because when he was attacked by a rival mage, it happened at the same time as my escape. My freedom has potentially cost us the freedom of all of Ulatha.

  “No need to go there again,” Mary said, placing a hand on Dareen’s shoulder. “I’m sure the druid was simply explaining the politics of Kesh is all and no ones to blame.”

  “I can’t help but think I am, and contrary to your kind words, Elister let me know I was the reason for the failure of the counter attack in Kesh.”

  Dorsun responded, “Blame only the Kesh for what the Kesh have done. For what we have done.”

  Dareen looked at the man then spoke, “I never thought I would like one of you but bless your heart. By all that is good and well with the Mother I can only thank you for your help.”

  Dorsun seemed to blush at this but Horace’s words brought them back to reality, “What are they up to?”

  The others looked behind them at the Blackthorn Forest far below. Elister could be seen at the edge but he turned and walked into the forest heading northwest. Tyra, the large green dragon, took flight from not far away and soared over the forest looking down as if hunting for something.

  “There,” Dorsun said, pointing at the far northeast edge of the forest where the old trade road skirted it on its way pass the old keep and to the only bridge over the Rapid River for leagues.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Horace asked, shielding his eyes against the late afternoon sun.

  The snow-covered ground, though mostly covering the land with some green and brown patches showing through, gave contrast to another large group of undead creatures. The main group was heading up the road, but they were leagues distant and a smaller group, though very large still by their standards, broke off and headed into the forest itself. Dareen answered the old man’s question, “Yes, undead again.”

  “How many can there be?” Mary asked, now completely turned around and facing west.

  “I’m guessing thousands,” Dorsun answered.

  Dareen nodded, “As many as have lived over the many centuries if this undead creature that Elister talked about is as powerful as he said he is.”

  “Then what’s that druid up to?” Horace asked.

  Dareen answered him for one last time, “He and the Guardian of the Forest are going to do what they’ve done for the last thousand years.”

  “Bloody hell,” Horace said.

  “So you have returned from Balaria,” Azor the Lich stated the obvious.

  Isolda Warring, member of the Balarian guild and occasional freelancer, replied, “You know I did.”

  “Have you finished what was requested of you?”

  “I have,” Isolda began. “Though I daresay my government would not approve, and the guild could very well expel me for it if not worse.”

  The lich nodded, a human trait it could not overcome, “Execute you would be the most likely result, but the decision had to be made. In the end, you will save your realm from a far worse fate.”

  The pair stood on top of the main tower within Korwell overlooking the realm of Ulatha. The lich was facing east though looking a tad to the north as if watching something. It hadn’t really turned to address the Balarian thief who was allowed to pass the many undead within the realm due to a charm she had been given. She had walked up the many stairs and stood slightly behind the creature who also had its crystal ball floating in front of it. “What now?”

  The lich seemed to turn its head slightly to the north so it could see her with its leftmost eye that was nothing more than a red dot of light. The disembodied voice responded, “You still have the task from your client and must secure me the rod.”

  “He will never relinquish it willingly,” Isolda said.

  “Have you tried?”

  “You know I haven’t,”

  The lich nodded again and turned its head back to look east. “Failure will not be tolerated.”

  “What do you suggest I do, stab him in the back?”

  “If you must.”

  Isolda sighed. “You’re not being very helpful.”

  “Then try a more subtle form of thievery, if you prefer.”

  “Like?”

  “He is a man still, and a living one at that. He has… shall we say… urges. Try to use your charm on him and see if that will lower his guard and allow you to secure the rod.” Azor said, tilting his head to his left in order to see her and gauge her reaction.

  “Oh, please,” Isolda protested. “I saw him with that amateur tart back in Balax and it was revolting to say the least. I will not ply some incompetent ploy on him with my gender.”

  “Then stab him in
the back and be done with it.”

  “Again, not very helpful and we’re back to where we were a moment ago.”

  The lich seemed not to care, “Do as you have been instructed, or else.”

  Isolda hated the threat, but it was very real, and she saw it first-hand. If Balaria continued to assist Kesh then they would suffer the consequences of the undead army once Kesh was overthrown and ruled by the Lich King. Should Balaria assist the lich, then it would be spared and his march towards total domination of the realms would end at the coast. Balaria would remain independent and an ally of the new Kesh leadership. Sighing, she replied, “I’ll find a compromise. Something that doesn’t involve backstabbing nor me playing the roll of a cheap tart.”

  “Good, see to it then. You must leave if you are to have any chance of catching them. They are very fleet of foot.”

  “I’ll spend the evening and rest then leave at first light. I won’t stop till I find them. You’re sure the talisman you gave me will lead me to them?”

  “No,” Azor said. “It will lead you to the rod, not them. I assume the rod will remain in his possession thus you will encounter them once you encounter the rod.”

  “Most astute of you,” Isolda replied.

  “Do not be facetious,” the lich said.

  “We are done then?”

  “For now,” Azor said. “I will suffer no more of the living here within this realm.”

  “So I’ll leave tonight then instead of at first light,” it was a statement by the thief.

  “You may leave at first light,” Azor explained. “I will no longer suffer the Arnen or his protection of the living within his little sanctuary of his precious mother, dragon or no dragon.”

  “What exactly can you do to one as powerful as him not to mention a dragon, if they do exist.” Isolda said.

  “Oh,” Azor the Lich responded, “They do exist and to answer your question… I can kill him… a second time, but this time I will ensure his death is, shall we say, permanent.”