by Mark B Frost
The Hell Knight lifted Kargaroth and rested it on his shoulder. “What will you do now?” his demonic voice whispered curiously.
Atheme’s mind raced over his past, looking for an answer. He remembered his training with Calvin, his fights with Abaddon, battles, wars, men and monsters, every opponent that he had ever faced. He could find nothing, and as he began to lose hope his mind began to wander. Then he heard the voice of his old friend from when they had last traveled together. The technique makes him faster, tougher, more mentally acute, and gives him a constant stream of ether to channel into his spells or healing while he fights. He becomes a perfect warrior in every way. He calls it Haste.
Atheme ran his mind over that conversation, remembering the details of Cildar’s ultimate spell. As he gathered a surge of white and grey magic into himself and began to build the spells needed, he smiled with restored confidence.
“Now,” he finally answered, “we step up to the next level.”
He placed the shields and barriers into place, wrapping himself with Auras, Holy Auras, grey barriers, strength enhancers, and more. Finally, cautiously, he executed the Phase Shift required to complete the spell.
“Mal-nineum orrinicar.”
His body expanded with the ether flowing through him. For a second he felt himself pulled a thousand directions at once, and was certain he would be torn apart. He released a roar and power surged through the air around him. Then in a flash, everything locked into place and his mind grew quiet, and he looked down at his new body.
The Hasted state had left him doused in his own magics. A white field floated around him, and his old red tunic and breeches had been bleached white, as well as his hair. His normally brown eyes had been washed out by the magic drowning his corpus, and now appeared to be a light grey color. Even his sare was surrounded by the field of energy, glowing so brightly that it looked to be twice as large as it actually was. Atheme reached to his belt and unsheathed his Morabet to find it also glowing with power. The mud from the ground and the rain from the sky slid off of his body, unable to touch him, and he felt the scars and wounds on his body healing even as his skin grew stronger.
He had never felt such power. He knew that he was a hundred times stronger, a hundred times faster, a hundred times better than before. He looked up at the dark shadow of the Hell Knight, seeing him with new eyes entirely, already predicting the monster’s next moves.
He extended his Morabet forward and began to spin the sare overhead in a menacing fashion. “Alright, hellspawn,” he shouted in bold defiance. “Let’s put that power of yours to a real test.”
Chapter 25.
Knight of the Heavens
Shasta D’argail overlooked the long process that had been Myris’ recovery. The Children of Cain were resistant to the Church’s white magic, and the Lord Cardinal alone possessed the skill to overcome this. For almost two days Aveni had continuously worked on Myris, but the result was always the same. The man would remain stable for about an hour, then mysteriously his condition would deteriorate.
The Dragoon watched as Aveni finished up a surgical procedure. The Lord Cardinal had hoped to find some evidence of internal damage that his magic was not detecting, but nothing had revealed itself. “Could you pass me the stitches?” he asked of one of his assistants. The girl complied, supplementing his stitching with her white magic.
After a few painstaking minutes of work, Aveni took a step back and wiped his forehead. The aide finished healing the repaired skin, then began the process of removing the stitches. The elder priest turned and left the room, Shasta following a step behind.
“How does it look this time?” the Dragoon asked.
“The same as every other, I fear. His condition is stable for now, but I haven’t found the source of the problem.” When he reached the door that led to his office, he stopped to motion one of his advisers forward and give a few orders. Then he directed his attention back to the man following him. “Guardian, I must take the short time that I have now to nap or I fear I will be no good to anyone. Could you please go forth and summon Lady Serene?”
Shasta was aware of Relm’s new identity, but he hesitated to respond. “I have been given specific instructions from General Karfa not to leave the Cain alone,” he said.
“I give you my personal assurance that Myris is going nowhere. As I have no available aides right now, I would greatly appreciate this favor.”
He tightened his mouth and bowed deeply. “Of course, Lord Cardinal.”
Aveni returned the bow and headed into his chambers. Shasta quickly turned and exited the infirmary. He traveled south until he reached the southern border of Church property, then halted and said to himself, “Now where do I find Relm?”
* * * * *
Sinjuin Serene sat in the Lord Councilor’s office, pouring over a collection of tomes she had procured from the Eldram’s library. She scrunched her face with concentration, trying to read between the lines for any insights hidden in subtext. She crossed her legs over the arm of the chair, then reached over and rang a small bell sitting on the desk.
Atheme’s aide stepped into the office. “Yes, Miss Sarin?”
She did not look up from her book. “For the third time, my name is Serene. Address me as such, or do not address me at all. I need more books from the Eldram. Everything they have about the years surrounding the Arocaen, particularly anything written by Calvin or Leprue.” She put her book down long enough to scribble out a note on a sheet of paper. “Also, take this to the Arcanum and tell them that I want any and all of the documents that Kinguin wrote during the time he studied Cainite magic.”
The man took the letter and left. Serene picked the discarded book up and resumed her studies. She was trying to find information concerning Kargaroth, but so far there had been precious little. Cardinal Talis had not wanted the truth behind the sword known, and had carefully repressed any information pertaining to its origins.
She knew there was little chance of uncovering information that would be new to her, and even less of it being of value to her mission, but she did not know what else to do with herself. She could not plan her next course of action without awaiting the outcome of Atheme’s journey, and she grew more anxious with each passing hour. Even as someone who had lived for centuries, Serene had never developed a sense of patience.
After scarcely a minute the office door opened again. She made no attempt at disguising her annoyance. “Why are you back? I know you haven’t had time to finish your errands.”
“Pardon me?”
She looked up to see Shasta standing in the doorway. Quickly she put down the book and rose to her feet. “Forgive me, Guardian,” she apologized. “I assumed you were someone else.”
The man gave a bow. “Cardinal Landes sent for you. I think that it has to do with Myris Phare’s condition.”
She looked at the books on her desk indecisively. “I suppose I can spare a few moments for the Lord Cardinal.”
Shasta nodded, and they headed to the Church.
* * * * *
By the time they got back to the infirmary, Aveni was once more at Myris’ bedside. Serene joined him and the two began discussing the Cainite’s condition. Shasta returned to leaning up against the wall by some of his fellow Dragoons, and motioned for a drink.
Aveni rubbed his eyes groggily. “Lady Serene, what do you think happened to Myris? If I knew the nature of his injuries, I would be better equipped to deal with them.”
She stepped forward and her hands hovered over Myris’ body. There were some slight flashes of white light, then her arms dropped back to her sides. “It’s hard for me to read much from him. He seems to have some sort of barrier about him.”
The weary healer nodded. “It is for that reason I have had very little sleep. I am our only priest with the capability to overcome his Cainite wards. But I confess, even I am struggling to get any sort of a read on him lately.”
“I would guess that his injuries come from Kar
garoth. We have seen what is caused by the shadow dragon’s ravages based on Cildar’s recovery, yet what is wrong with Myris is on a different level. There are not many levels beyond ‘shadow dragon’.”
The elder blinked and scrunched his face. “A different level?”
“I just mean that Kargaroth is far more dangerous than any dragon.”
“Perhaps, but you have given me another thought. I have been focusing stubbornly on keeping Myris’ body alive, but he does not seem to be putting forth any will of his own. What if, in fact, his very spirit has been severed from his body, and he is rendered incapable of presenting any will for survival?”
Serene tilted her head as she tried to absorb this information. “I’m not entirely sure I understand.”
He moved over to Myris and began working spells on him. “The basis of white magic is that the spirit is the interface that allows humans to draw energy from the world around us, much in the way that a rune is an interface that allows a mage to draw energy from the Asterian plane. White magic uses this knowledge to collect energy from the planet using one’s spirit, and channel that energy to heal others. If a person’s spirit was not functional, then in all likelihood he would be unable to sustain his own life, even if his body was in perfect condition.”
“And that exactly describes Myris’ current behavior!” she exclaimed. “Although without a spirit, how does he continue to resist our white magic?”
Aveni shook his head, continuing his scans. “I now suspect that is only partially true. Part of what we were perceiving as Myris’ resistance was in fact his total lack of spiritual response. However, some part of the Cainite protections are actually disseminated through the individual cells of the corpus. Even without an active spirit renewing them, they will linger for some time. In Myris’ case they are still potent enough to be quite a nuisance.” He closed his eyes and gave a soft nod. “As I thought, his spirit is gone.”
“Then he is a lost cause,” Serene responded. “Without a spirit, we’re needlessly prolonging his demise.”
“Maybe not,” he argued. “It is possible that I can construct him a new spirit.”
She was taken aback. “A new spirit? Would that not require the power of a god?”
The priest closed his eyes and placed his hands on Myris’ chest, and a deep white aura began to spread around the pair’s bodies. “A spirit is not overly complex. At its essence, it is merely an interface that allows one to draw energy from the planet. I believe that I am capable of creating a simulacrum based on my own spirit using white magic. Please, I must concentrate for a moment.”
Everyone was silent as the two Grand Councilors glowed in eerie unison. Shasta took a few steps closer, completely lost by the conversation but intrigued nonetheless. Aveni finally lifted his hands from the patient’s body, the light faded, and the priest would have fallen to the floor had not Serene caught him and helped him to his feet.
He gave her a soft smile, and she motioned for one of the aides to assist him. She stepped forward and used a Scan on Myris for herself. Shasta stepped in closer once more.
“Well?” he asked insistently. “Did it work?”
“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “I am amazed and pleased to say that it worked. Lord Aveni is truly a marvelous servant of Pecoros. I believe Myris will be fine in only a couple of hours, now.”
Shasta nodded. “That’s all I needed to know.” He motioned the other Dragoons forward. “Alright, men. Let’s get him to the prison.”
Serene straightened her back defiantly. “You must be joking! At least allow the man a peaceful recovery.”
“I am under strict orders on this matter. Myris Phare is a dangerous man, and if he regains consciousness it will be almost impossible to arrest him without casualties. Especially as Lord Cildar has yet to resume his duties.”
“Lord Templar Shasta,” Aveni said weakly, “as your Cardinal I must insist that you and your men pause.” He raised a hand in the direction of the Dragoons who were positioned to move Myris onto a stretcher, and they looked to Shasta. The Dragoon lieutenant nodded, motioning them back.
“Lord Aveni, you know my orders.”
“Aye, my son. But Serene is not entirely correct in her prognosis. I have only crafted Myris a crude spirit based on my own. It is a patch to allow his body to draw some essential white ether and keep him alive, but it is not a cure for his condition. He will need a more fitting spirit, one that matches his original more closely. To craft one, I will need to study one of the other Children of Cain.”
Shasta scratched his chin. “My orders are very specific. I am to take Myris to a holding cell the moment his treatment is complete.” He bowed to Aveni. “If his treatment is not yet complete, then we will wait.”
“What I have done,” the Cardinal continued, “will hold Myris over for a few hours, at least. If it does not offend anyone present, I feel it would be best if I used this time to sleep. Shasta, please have your men prepared to bring one of the Cain to me when I awaken. They are loyal to Myris, one of them will certainly volunteer if they understand his life is on the line.”
“They are confined to quarters,” Shasta responded, “but I suppose I could bring one of the elders or youths.”
Aveni shook his head. “I need a match to Myris’ old spirit, as I said. It must be one of their warriors. One with heraldry prowess close to his own. There will only be a few matches.”
“I can help,” Serene offered. “I’m better suited to identify a donor than Shasta’s men, and can sedate the volunteer and bring them here safely.”
The Dragoon agreed that this was acceptable, so Aveni took his leave. As Shasta sent his men to assemble a squadron of bodyguards for the Saint, she turned to him. “What’s going to happen to Myris, when this is over?”
He shook his head. “For all the trouble we’re going through, he’ll likely be put on trial and then swiftly sentenced to execution. A waste of time and effort, perhaps, but that is the law. He must be fit to stand his own trial.”
Serene was taken aback. Although her goals and Myris’ were at odds, she still hated to see the man’s life thrown away so callously. “And what did Cildar have to say about this?”
“To my knowledge, nothing. Since his recovery Lord Cildar has said little to anyone. We have all been deceived by Myris and his people, no one more so than Cildar and myself. Though I am sure that as an honorable man, he would approve of the Cainite receiving the punishment he is owed.”
She wanted to lash out at the Dragoon, but she knew it would do no good. Even if she changed his mind, he would merely be removed and another man given his post. She needed to yell at someone with higher authority. With Atheme still gone, the only action she could think to take was to find Cildar. Without another word, she headed off to do just that while Shasta gathered his troops.
* * * * *
Serene found Cildar in a private office hidden deep in Emle property, sitting and meditating. She stormed over to him without hesitation and immediately began shouting. “Do you have any idea what they’re about to do to your best friend while you sit here doing nothing?”
The Lord of the Phoenix looked up with a dreary expression. “Myris Phare, the man that I once called my best friend, is a traitor to Felthespar. He will be tried and, most likely, executed. Such is the fate all traitors earn.”
“Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you want to do something about it?”
“Do something? Like what, defend a traitor? I am of the House Lurin, and my first duty is to the country I serve and the laws of that country. If Myris is a traitor, then it is my personal responsibility to see to it that he is executed, not to prevent it.”
“Some things are more important than laws!”
He shook his head slowly. “Not to a White Robe.”
She stood fuming, repressing several scathing retorts. Finally she said, “If you’re going to allow your best friend to be condemned to death, then do it the honorable way. Take your Lance and ex
ecute him yourself, instead of sitting idly by and letting others do the dirty work for you.”
He turned away. “The Lance does not respond to me anymore. My spirit is tarnished and I am incapable of using the powers of a paladin. I have decided I shall step down from my positions and relinquish my titles.”
She looked to the wall and saw the Trine Lance propped there, realizing for the first time how depressed the man truly was. He had lost the very abilities which had made him a hero to his fellow countrymen, followed shortly by his confidence, then finally learned that his most trusted ally was a traitor to his country, the one crime his honor could not allow him to forgive.
Serene knew how to fix only one of these problems, and hoped that somehow this would bring about a solution to the others. She walked to the Trine Lance and picked it up, then carried it back to where Cildar sat. The Lance did not respond to her touch, but remained dormant.
“Do you know what this weapon is?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean its origin? No one knows how far back the Trine Lance dates, nor what the source of its creation was.”
“That’s not what I meant. Not where it’s from, but what it is. The Lance is the most powerful Morolian weapon ever created. The source of its power comes from drawing on the spirit of a native Morolian, such as yourself, and using power from that spirit to vanquish creatures that are not of Morolia. That is why it’s so effective against nightspawn, demonspawn, or even dragonspawn. Because those creatures draw their strength from Asteria, the Trine Lance rejects them and banishes their power from them.”
“Yes,” he replied with a sad nod, “it is truly a marvel.”
“You must understand this, Cildar. The Trine Lance is Morolia. It is the will of humanity itself, to drive those who are a threat to them from their home plane. The Emle line has long known how to use the weapon, but never has one among your family understood its true nature. Once you comprehend its nature, you can foresee uses for it beyond as a mere weapon. Uses such as this.”
