by Jena Rey
Blood ran down Darian’s arm, hot and metallic, but a quick inspection of the wound told Darian that it wasn’t a fatal cut. Just a rookie mistake. He grimaced, grateful the cut was on his off hand, then went to find Ephema.
Ephema blinked the tears from her eyes, the risking smoke and heat from the flames licking at her skin. She got her hands more firmly under the priest’s shoulders and pulled hard. His face was black with burnt skin, but she felt the pulse of his life through her fingertips. He could be saved if she could get him away from the fire. She pulled him foot by agonizing foot until she could lay him next to another unconscious man, who had managed to get himself out of the building but had fallen before she got to him.
Ephema glanced around, making sure she was alone. She knelt between the men, lowering her head and whispering her incantations, praying to the Mother for mercy. Despite the Knight’s insistence that the Goddess was lost, Ephema felt the warmth of the Mother’s power. White wisps of power slid down her arms, and she rested her fingertips on each man’s shoulder.
She felt the draw of energy leaving her body, even as she was filled with healing power. She knew she had the strength to restore them both to full health, but hesitated to use so much energy until she knew how many others were hurt. She had limits and pushing past them would be painful. As her power washed over them, blackened skin fell away from their hands and faces, showing the healthy pink of new skin below.
The man on her right started to wake, and Ephema lifted her hands, pushing to her feet and stumbling to the well to draw a bucket of water. She returned to the men, pouring water over their hands and faces. Darian came around the corner of the building, his lips pursed in a frown that made her feel guilty. He had told her to stay close, but she’d seen movement, and it had seemed a better idea to help. As he drew closer, she saw the sleeve of his right arm was bright with blood, slashed open just beneath where the thick leather covered his shoulder and upper arm.
He walked over and knelt down by the men, looking them over. “Survivors? Good. Have you found any others, or seen or heard from the Knights?”
She shook her head as another crash echoed from inside. “I’ve only seen these two, and I’ve heard the noises from the Knights. I worry the building might fall down if they continue like this.” She shifted her position and touched Darian’s arm, his blood cold on her fingers. She extended her prayer, and the white glow wrapped around his arm like a wisp of mist. The stain remained on his clothing, but within an instant the flesh below was made whole.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Darian smiled his thanks anyway. He looked up as dust and burning bits of roof fell from the building. “I see what you mean. I have only trained with Knights Tabor and Ianel, I’ve yet to see them in combat, but they are not subtle. We should get these two farther away in case the walls do not hold.”
Despite the gloves covering his hands, Ephema felt warm from his touch. She disagreed with his insistence that she shouldn’t heal him. Her father said sometimes the best healing was preventing other injuries from happening. If Darian could not defend himself, more damage would be done to him, and he could not defend others. She rubbed more ash off her face and nodded. “I agree.”
One of the wounded men began to cough, and she slipped away from Darian, moving to the man’s side. “Come. We must get away from here. It will be easier if you can stand.”
“Wha…who?” The man groggily opened bloodshot eyes and tried to focus on the two before him. “Where am I?”
“You’re outside the temple, my friend, but it’s burning. We have to move now.” Darian knelt and got an arm around the man, helping him to his feet. “Up you come.”
“Who are you?”
“Darian, Journeyman of Osephetin. Two Knights are here as well.”
“Journeyman…oh praise be to Osephetin.” The man steadied himself, still weak but able to stand without Darian’s help. “We thought we were done for! They came from…” He was unable to continue as a coughing fit wracked his body.
“Later. For now, let’s get out of the smoke.”
Ephema nodded, slipping her shoulder under the priest’s arm and nodding at his companion. “Darian, you will have to carry the other. I am not strong enough.” She pulled on the priest, starting him toward the road. Even if the temple remained standing, the smoke wasn’t good for anyone and unless someone doused the fire, the burning would continue until nothing remained but the stone foundations.
Darian secured his mace and hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder. It wasn’t easy, but between their efforts, they reached the street a few minutes later. The horses still waited there, though they’d moved back from the burning building, showing more common sense than many people. Ephema helped the priest to sit on the side of the road. “Breathe deeply now. You will feel better if you breathe out all the smoke.” Not that the danger wasn’t still present here, but the thickest smoke was being drawn up into the wind and the touch of the snow was soothing.
“Thank you, m’lady.” The man sat down, weary but with gratitude in his expression. He took a few minutes, breathing in deeply and coughing to clear his lungs. “Where did you come from? You are not locals to the city.”
Darian settled the unconscious man into a comfortable position and stood, one hand never too far from his weapons. His gaze darted around as he spoke. They were far from safe. “No. We’re not. I was part of a convoy that was supposed to stop here on our way to Hawthan, but we were ambushed. The Knights inside found me along the way. Ephema has joined us for reasons of her own. We saw the fire and came to help.”
The man perked up as he listened. “The convoy! We have been waiting for you. Do you have the scroll? Tell me that the seal has not been broken and it remains safe!”
“I do. It is safe and sealed, though I am surprised you know about it.”
“Thank the Dark One. Some good may yet come out of this day.” He sighed and continued. “We have been watching for you for nearly a week. I was one of those who helped discover the existence of the scroll and thus knew what you were seeking. Forgive me for not standing, my child. I am Bishop Lam, formerly of the Temple of Tallet. But I can no longer say that, I suppose, seeing as how it’s burning before us.”
“Walls can be rebuilt, sir. Lives cannot.” Darian looked up as Tabor and Ianel emerged. Relief filled him now that they were out of the burning building and seemed none the worse for wear. “It looks like they’ve cleared the undead, sir, but we should be wary. More may still be about, and the temple is still burning. Usually, the temples serve as places to gather the people in such emergencies. As this one is a loss, I don’t know where else to go.”
“There are other large buildings, my son. Depending on where the fires burned and what was spared, we can use them.” He frowned deeply. “I do not know how many of our brothers survived, but they will return here when they can.”
Darian nodded, waiting to continue until Tabor and Ianel joined them. Both men were covered in soot and ash and a long scratch marred the front of Ianel’s breastplate, digging into the metal, though the enchanted bone remained in one piece. Darian saluted them with a hand across his chest. “Two of those Hunter undead came while you were inside. I defeated one, but had a lot of help from Valor on the second. You’ll find the remains under his hooves. Ephema found these two survivors, Bishop Lam and…umm… I don’t know the name of the other Brother yet. We found no others. Your orders?”
“Relax, Darian. My orders, at the moment, are to stand down. I’m confident that’s all of the undead here.” Tabor frowned. “These undead were Hunters and yet they weren’t, not really. Hunters always operate under a chain of command. It is where they get their power. Hunters under a Commander are deadly opponents. These?” He ran a hand along his maul, checking for nicks. “Stronger than regular night walkers, but only barely. These were the stragglers. Otherwise, we’d still be fighting.”
“But why were they here in the first place?” Ianel worried at h
is hammer, trying to dislodge a piece of skull which was wedged atop the weapon. Fractures spiraled out from the point of impact, but the bone held tight to the bone-studded metal.
“Once the fires are out and the whole town is secure, we will find out.” Tabor looked around the road with a practiced eye before nodding to himself. “Come. There are a few buildings that way which are untouched by flame. We will gather the wounded there. Darian, carry our injured Brother. Ianel, help Ephema with the horses, not that they will need much direction. Bishop Lam, please accompany us. You will need to be the voice of the temple in this crisis, and we will be your hands.” He offered Bishop Lam his hand, which the man accepted, and pulled him to his feet. “We have much to do.”
Chapter Seven
Despite Tabor’s assurance they would rest, it was long in coming. Led by the remaining guardsmen, and assured the Knights would destroy any other undead, the townfolk were quick to return to the defense of their city. Darian found himself assigned to a team to gather folks from the outlying areas while Tabor and Ianel assisted in repairing the gates and extinguishing the flames. The undamaged buildings, most of which were on the western side of town, became focal points to gather the injured and to bring supplies for survivors and those with no home no return to. The sense of camaraderie wouldn’t last, but for now, everyone was doing their part to help. Bishop Lam and his fortunate counterpart, a young acolyte by the name of Timmon, made space for the wounded in a large storage shed and offered prayers of sanctification for the dead. Neither man seemed to realize that their condition was a matter of healing, and not divine intervention of the Dark Lord, which Darian decided was just as well.
Ephema wandered the makeshift aid station, speaking softly to the injured and helping with bandaging and bringing food and water. Darian never witnessed her actively using her healing abilities, but wherever she went the injured recovered faster. As the hours passed and darkness fully fell, he and Ianel had to convince her to retire to one of the cots and sleep, otherwise she would have tended to the wounded until she collapsed. Darian was certain that his plea for her well-being wasn’t nearly as convincing as Ianel’s threat to put her on the cot and sit on her.
Darian lost track of time as the night crept on. The gates, as hastily repaired as they were, held steady against the encroach of the nightly undead, which were few, but there were many other tasks that called for a strong back and willing hands. Every time he tried to sit down and rest, someone else called for more help. He managed to doze here and there, but true sleep eluded him. As daylight broke, he found a spot at a table in the busy inn. He sat down, intent on sitting for just a moment, but woke up over an hour later when Tabor sat next to him and slapped his shoulder by way of greeting.
“Wake up, Journeyman.” Tabor grinned as Darian jerked awake. “We still have lots to do today, and little time to do it in.” The big knight startled some of the other patrons when he dropped the head of his maul to the ground with a loud thud and pulled it closer, letting it sit upside down on the floor beside him.
“Uh!” Darian nearly came out of his seat at the force of the slap combined with his sudden return to wakefulness. “I’m awake! Osephetin’s blood, Knight Tabor, do you ever sleep?”
“I slept for about two hours this morning. That’s plenty. Have you spoken to Bishop Lam, yet? He’s asked about you twice.”
“I have not.” Darian grimaced. “He knows something about the scroll and can verify its authenticity, but every time I go to see him, he’s been far too busy seeing to the needs of his people. Which is really as it should be.”
Tabor nodded, learning back in his chair. His weight brought a protest from the wood, but it held. “Understandable. Many need his guidance and comfort and his temple staff has been reduced to a handful of people. He will require assistance in completing the rites for our Brethren and the other deceased from the city. We have, of course, volunteered our services to assist the dead to gain safe passage to Osephetin’s Halls.”
“Of course.” Inwardly, Darian groaned. The next few days were not going to be any shorter than this one had been, and he felt the weight of his mission to return the scroll to the High Temple, but it would be foolish to strike off on his own. The rites they could use were different with the priests present. They would not be difficult, especially for non-disciples, if they were done quickly after death, but they could be time consuming. Especially if the numbers were high. “Do we know how many perished?”
Tabor adjusted the position of his giant maul, the bone squealing against the floor. Many of the inn’s patrons gave the Knight a curious glance, which he ignored. Darian supposed a Knight got accustomed to being started at. Eventually. “We do not have a final count, and more could still die from their wounds. Right now, it appears there were around thirty lost among the guards and the people with an additional nine perishing at the temple either in battle or the fire. This included Knight Pyina, but her death did not come cheap.”
Darian’s stomach grumbled, the gurgling interrupting Tabor’s accounting. Darian flagged down one of the tavern maidens, a pretty girl carrying a large tray of empty plates and mugs. “M’lady, is there something more to eat for two hungry men?”
She smiled shyly. “We do indeed. Our stores were fortunate to be spared in the chaos.” Her gaze flicked to Tabor, “And for you, good Knight? On the house, of course. Wouldn’t be a city left without you Knights.”
Tabor snorted, not correcting her as to their efforts. “Anything will do, girl. Empty stomachs aren’t overly picky. Though I’d be obliged if a full tankard came with it.”
The tavern maiden curtseyed without tipping her tray and hurried away. Darian shook his head, trying to clear the last of the cobwebs of sleep. “How many did it take to down Knight Pyina? I remember her from my early training. She was a very dedicated woman, and she was insanely dangerous with a battle axe.”
“Aye. She was a beast. It’s hard to tell how many she killed from the piles of debris that we found her body in. I would guess at least a dozen. She called on Osephetin’s grace in the end. Bishop Lam told me that’s what set the Temple on fire and not the burning pitch on some of the skeletons.” Tabor was quiet for a moment after that, both men paying a moment of silence in honor of the fallen. Finally, Tabor’s gaze rose to the people of the tavern. “Darian, why would Hunters attack here? These are uncommon beasts. What is so alluring about some little city that’s barely above a town on the edge of nowhere?”
Darian took in the soft question, pitched under the chatter of the morning crowd. The weight of the bone and metal case at his side was heavier than he’d remembered it being. “This is the first place with a decent sized temple that I’ve seen since we left the temple at Winter Spire and came south. Bishop Lam knows something about what I carry, and the undead focused mostly on the temple here. You can see it in the damage patterns. They could have destroyed more of the city, but they didn’t. That can’t really be a coincidence, can it?”
“I don’t believe in such coincidences.” Tabor met Darian’s gaze across the table. “I think we need to get that case to Bishop Lam. He told me he received a message entreating him to assist the convoy when you got here. I want to know what else he was told.” He paused, shrugging. “After we’ve gotten some food in our bellies, naturally. I don’t think another half hour is going to make much difference, but then we must make him make time for us. We need the answers he can provide in order to take our next steps. We need to know if the plan to journey straight to Hawthan is still a solid one.” He frowned, rubbing his jaw, his fingers rasping against the bristles of his short beard. “Or we need a new plan, before something worse than Hunters arrives at our doorstep.”
“I can’t see how there’s much worse than…” Darian stopped himself. “You don’t really think…” He couldn’t force himself to speak the thought out loud, as though saying it might make it happen. No Knight had seen the Lich in living memory. They had only fought his minions, and those were b
ad enough.
“I don’t know. Just because it hasn’t happened before now doesn’t mean it can’t. I don’t know enough about that trinket you’re carrying, but I know things are changing. Something in the air is different. It is harder to draw power than it used to be. And if we have to defend against more than Hunters, I’d rather do it with the power of the High Temple and more of our Brethren for back up.” Tabor paused and allowed a grin. “Not that Ianel and I didn’t enjoy the work out, but we were lucky what was left was weak and already coming apart. We can’t count on that luck to sustain us.
“And I wasn’t referring to the Lich. I don’t think he has any need to deal with us himself, at least not at our current strength. We see only the least of his powers when the dead rise. His Hunters and Commanders serve much as Journeyman Knights might, but there’s more, Darian. I’ve seen them. Once, a long time ago when I was only a journeyman, myself. Those…those he might send. We call them the Corrupted.”
“Corrupted?” Even the sound of the word sent chills down Darian’s spine, and he found himself gripping his mace as though he might have to spring into action. “Dare I ask what those are?” And whatever they were, why hadn’t he been told about them before now? Even Hunters hadn’t been part of his training; he’d only heard about them in stories from more experienced Knights like his mother. Between undead that could run at the pace of a man and others that could walk in the light of the day, it appeared there was much that hadn’t been covered. Things he thought even a Journeyman deserved to know.
“There are many types of undead, Darian. You have been taught that if one of Osephetin’s faithful dies, the Lich’s magic cannot affect the corpse like our Brother in that small temple.” He nodded at the tavern maiden as she brought the food and drink, accepting the heavy tray and setting it on the table between he and Darian. “Ah, this will hit the spot. Thank you.”
