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#3
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“Angels and Demons”
A wolf’s howl pierced the night, chilling the disorientated man’s soul. It was possibly the drink affecting his vision but Bogrin was sure he had seen a stunningly beautiful wood nymph in the forest when he had exited the Tavern. Everyone knew a wood nymph would grant you your every desire, no matter how sinful, if you caught it. So naturally the drunk stumbled into the wood to find it.
Ale clouded thoughts gave way gradually to a splitting headache and growing fear as he realized he was lost in the woods. The sky was thick with clouds this night, making the forest virtually impossible to navigate. His breath came in ragged gasps as a second wolf cry drove him to run headlong into the woods. The farmhand prayed to any gods that would listen that he was headed back towards town.
A rustle in the branches of a nearby tree caused him to glance over his shoulder in fear, meaning he did not notice the log until he was already stumbling over it. For what felt like the longest time his dazed mind could not fathom how he had gone from being vertical to horizontal. Rolling onto his back, he lay there slowly regaining his breath, and thought about what a daft fool he was.
He even chuckled to himself…until he saw the eyes. A pair of glowing yellow orbs watched him from the darkness of a nearby tree branch, studying him curiously. Icy cold fear wrapped its talons around Bogrin’s throat, cutting off his scream, as his muscles froze up in terror.
“Hello freund, are you lost?” said an oddly jovial voice, completely at odds with the terrifying eyes.
No words would come to the man’s lips; all he could do was stare at the eyes in fear.
“The woods at night are certainly no place for someone on their own,” said the eyes, with an odd accent.
Bogrin watched as the eyes suddenly dropped from the tree branch, he could barely make out the man shaped silhouette as it spun through the air and landed on the ground with barely a sound. The figure drew closer until it stepped into the moonlight, revealing itself.
The skinny figure belonged to a demon, not a man. It stood on two legs but was bent forward, unnaturally. Each hand possessed only two fingers and a thumb while its feet had only a pair of large toes. The glowing yellow eyes, which had watched Bogrin so curiously, rested in a rather elfin face except for the blue-black skin and pointed teeth. Worst of all was the ropey, whip like tail swishing through the air behind it.
“Here, let me help you, friend,” he smiled wickedly and reached out a hand to the fallen man.
It was now that Bogrin’s voice chose to return to him, and he screamed, “Demon! Get away wicked thing! HELP!!”
The demon stepped back, with a pained look upon its face and disappeared in a cloud of purple and black smoke.
Bogrin was left alone in the woods, with the stench of sulphur filling his nostrils.
Elsewhere, the smell of sulphur also filled H’nk M’Koy’s nostrils, though he relished the scent. To him it was the smell of progress, the smell of a mortal’s control over something he could understand. By combining a few alchemical components he had just concocted an oil of explosion. With great hesitation, he poured a teaspoon’s worth of the liquid into a small glass vial and hurled it into the fireplace.
Fwa-Boom!
The vial exploded remarkably, reducing firewood to splinters and hurling it in every direction. He loved that in just a few minutes he had created something a mage studied months to create; an explosion out of thin air.
“Hank, are you alright? I heard an explosion,” called a concerned feminine voice from the top of the stairs; Ororo.
As she walked down the cellar stairs, looking as regal and beautiful as ever, H’nk couldn’t help but stare with longing. The woman could easily be mistaken for a goddess; with soft, exotic brown skin, remarkable blue eyes and long, snow white hair, the woman was completely and utterly unique.
His thoughts naturally drifted to his own looks; a squat, apelike physique, oversized hands and feet and sloping forehead were the sheer opposite of Ororo. How could anyone love such a beast?
A brief gust of wind cleared the acrid smoke from the room, one of the woman’s many gifts, and Ororo looked upon H’nk in concern. Her concerned faded, to be replaced by a soft laugh, when she noticed the budding alchemist was unharmed but covered in wood fragments.
“I see you are prepared for an attack by the local forest,” she laughed while brushing the splinter’s from H’nk’s hair.
H’nk couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, while we worry about Magnus and the Brotherhood the trees are planning their attack,”
The mention of Magnus stole the mirth from both of them as they were reminded of their spectacular defeat by the man a week ago and the absolute destruction of Nabras. The young man mentally kicked himself as Ororo remembered the deaths they were unable to prevent.
“I best go and tend to my garden,” said Ororo after a moment of awkward silence. She practically ran up the stairs.
He could have gone after her and give her comfort, he could have even told her how he felt, but he didn’t. Instead he returned to his work bench and started grinding more firesalt; the formula needed refining.
Scott stood ready, with his blade held horizontal before his face, a knight’s salute. Lord Charles Xavier stood opposite him with his blade held defensively out in front. The older man, with the sun shining off his bald head, looked awkward as he leaned on his crutch. The younger man was hesitant; how could he engage in swordplay with a one legged man? It seemed dishonourable to the squire.
“Don’t hesitate, Scott,” said Charles calmly. “Don’t underestimate me because of my disability,”
Though he still felt like a coward for attacking a lame man, he did as he was asked. He charged in for the attack with a standard right-hand swing, with the flat of the blade of course. Xavier blocked the attack deftly, pushing Scott’s blade away and swinging around for an overhead chop. He managed a poor block but the one legged man was already changing the direction of his swing; the blade swung out around Scott’s and slapped him hard against the ribcage.
“You’re dead, Scott,” smiled Xavier. “You took pity on me, you could have used more foot work but you didn’t, because I couldn’t.”
The young squire shrugged nervously. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Xavier placed a reassuring hand on his squire’s shoulder and smiled. “We’ll work more on this later, but for now I have a mission for you all. Come and join me in my study.”
After several minutes of working on his oil of explosion formula, H’nk received a mental summons to join Lord Xavier and the others in the study. After several years of living in Greymalkin, the young alchemist had grown accustomed to Lord Xavier speaking in his mind, although it still startled him quite often when deep in thought. After sparing a moment to clean the soot from his face he rushed upstairs to join the others.
Charles’ study was only a few steps away from his basement lab and yet the young alchemist was still the last person to arrive. Actually, he realized, that was wrong; Logan was not present.
Lord Xavier sat behind his polish oak desk, hands clasped before him, with a series expression upon his face. His stepdaughter, Jean, stood beside him wearing her favoured emerald and gold gown. She truly was a beautiful sight, but H’nk’s eyes couldn’t help but drift towards exotic Ororo. Scott was there too, looking slightly nervous; this was his first group assembly after all.
Charles spoke. “Thank you all for coming…has anyone seen Logan?”
“I saw him heading into the forest an hour ago, stepfather. He carried some provisions with him; it looked as if he wasn’t planning to be back for supper.”
“Is that usual?” asked Scott.
“Logan has a reputation for disappearing into the woods for days or weeks at a time,” explained H’nk. “We’ve merely come to accept it and trust that he’ll return when he’s ready.”
Scott looked as if he was going to say more but instead held his tongue.
“Well, his absence could not have come at a more inopportune time,” concerned flashed across Xavier’s features. “I’ve sensed the presence of two gifted, two days journey to the west, in the mountains.”
“Excuse me, sir, but how were you able to sense someone so far away?” asked Scott, looking apologetic but confused.
Xavier smiled, allowing the interruption. With Jean’s help he rose from his seat before limping over to a large bookcase. Jean concentrated and the bookcase swung open like a door, moved by Jean’s telekinesis. Behind the bookcase was the entrance to a chamber roughly the same size as Xavier’s study, except empty of any items. Every wall of the chamber, including the ceiling and floor, was covered with magnificent glowing runes.
“Sorcery!” exclaimed Scott. As a knight in training he was taught to mistrust the capricious nature of magic.
“This is a Cerebras chamber, Scott,” explained Charles. “A friendship with Archmage Le’strange does come in handy. The chamber is used by mages to enhance spells of telepathy, allowing long distance scrying or communication. For one such as myself, with abilities much stronger than the average spell, it allows me send my thoughts over much further a distance.”
“That was how you found me?”
“Yes, that was how I found all of my Knights,” he smiled warmly, thankful for the family the Cerebras chamber had brought him, before sitting down once again.
“The two gifted I sensed can be found at a monastery in the village of Grom. Unfortunately, there is growing unrest within the village and I fear the monastery will come under attack any day now. You must make haste to Grom immediately and bring these two gifted to safety.”
“Is there anything you can tell us about these gifted?” asked Scott. “What are their names?”
“I fear I do not know, I’m sorry. The thoughts of others from such a distance are like mist; they slip through your fingers if you try to look too closely,” he looked to H’nk. “In light of Logan’s absence you will need to travel with Scott and Ororo, H’nk, but you must stay concealed. The people of Grom won’t be as open minded as those of Greymalkin.”
“What about me stepfather? I am more than capable of participating in this mission,” stated Jean.
“No! I will hear nothing of it, Jean. I’ve already lost your mother and I refuse to lose you too.” Not in a long time had any of them seen Charles show such emotion. “You could have died last week in Nabras...”
“But I didn’t, Stepfather.”
Scott chimed in. “If anything, Lord, she kept us all alive…” A withering glare from Charles shut him up.
After taking a moment to calm himself, Xavier spoke, “Jean will remain in Greymalkin with me; there will be no more discussion.” Jean knew when she was defeated and said nothing more in protest. He then looked to his Knights. “Scott, H’nk, Ororo pack your things and leave within the hour. I am imprinting your destination within your minds now. Please make haste.”
H’nk wasn’t sure whether to feel nervous or elated; he very rarely participated on field missions due to his unusual appearance, but he would get to spend several days almost alone with Ororo. Perhaps he would finally pluck up the courage to actually tell her how he felt?
To H’nk’s dismay he barely had a chance to talk to Ororo alone. Due to the dangerous nature of the area they were travelling through, Scott insisted that the trio stay close to each other at all times. By the end of the second day he was miserable; he ached from all the riding and the heavy cloak he was forced to wear to hide his features was stifling.
Ororo, on the other hand, was in extremely high spirits. The white haired woman loved the outdoors and revelled in nature. She smiled warmly and asked the two young men. “Don’t you just love travelling under the open sky? With the breeze on your face and the sun on your back.”
Without a reply from her companions she drifted into the air on a buffet of air and laughed as she twirled around.
“Ororo, get down here!” ordered Scott as loudly as he could without shouting. It was a wise move too, as the village of Grom drew near.
The young woman drifted back down into the saddle of her horse, looking chastised. With a cheeky grin to H’nk she fired a tiny lightning bolt from her index finger, striking Scott in the backside. He yelped and glared at the pair as they burst into laughter.
“Let’s try to stay focused here, this is serious,” he grumbled while rubbing his behind.
“Oh, Ororo, you’re a breath of fresh air,” smiled H’nk. Ororo, not sure whether that was a compliment or a joke, simply smiled in reply.
“We’re here,” said Scott. “Be alert,”
The thick woodlands that lay along the path gave way to squat, ugly, thatch-roofed houses seemingly covered in mud for insulation. They followed the path through the village noticing very few people around. The place was definitely nowhere near the size of Greymalkin, though it still managed a sizeable tavern, the Mop and Bucket.
As the end of the day drew near, the trio expected a lot more people around town returning to their homes after working in the fields or the small copper mine nearby. The mystery would have to wait until later though; Charles wished them to make haste directly to the monastery, which is exactly what they did.
Grom’s main road lead the group north of the town and up the slope of a small mountain, really more of a foothill. The trees returned again, but this time much more spaced apart than before, and the road appeared to be well tended to.
It took them another ten minute’s ride to reach the monastery and when they did they feared they were too late. A large crowd of villagers congregated outside massive stone chapel, shouting angrily. Thankfully they weren’t brandishing pitchforks, which generally meant villagers meant business.
As they drew nearer they noticed a half a dozen monks, wearing heavy brown robes, trying to placate the crowd. A portly monk, with a bald head and a thick grey beard seemed to be the leader of the holy men. He stood before the rabble with his hands held in a sign of peace.
“Please mein freunds, the Priory of Solaris has always been honest and truthful with Grom,” he said, with an odd accent.
“Why can’t yoose monks talk normal-like?!” yelled back an old man with three teeth to his name.
“We know the demon’s here, Elwin, just give it up,” said a much larger, younger man, who stepped to the front of the pack. The man oozed confidence and, unlike the other villagers, was dressed quite well. He also happened to be one of the only people there carrying a weapon; a large sword lay in its scabbard strapped to his back.
Elwin, the monk, looked at the young man with a mix of fear and pity in his eyes. “This is a holy place, Graydon, nothing evil will be found within our walls.”
The well dressed man, Graydon, spat on Elwin’s foot. “Holy? Bah! You and your kind worship a false god…”
“The lady Solaris watches over us every day,” argued Elwin, gesturing towards the sun gradually setting on the horizon. “The priory has faith,”
“The Celestial gods are gone, old man, if they ever existed at all!” Graydon exploded with anger, pulling his sword from its scabbard and pointing it at the monk, much to the shock of everyone present. “The only true gods are the Twelve Divines, the walking gods!”
“I have seen what the Walking Gods can do, boy,” said Elwin grimly. “They kill all who do not worship them. The Priory fled the empire more than fifty years ago; travelling across the great sea to make our home in Parthoris. No one shall persecute us for our faith again.” Surprising everyone, the monk stepped forward, until the point of Graydon’s sword pressed against his chest.
“If you are going to kill me, boy, I will not stop you.” Frustration showed on Graydon’s face. Elwin had him backed into a corner; if he killed the defenceless old man in cold blood the villagers would turn against him.
Thankfully for him, the decision was taken out of his hands; something golden and metallic dropped down from the sky at a remarkable speed, imbedding itself in the ground between Graydon and Elwin. Graydon stumbled backwards, falling onto his behind in shock, but Elwin stood calm. The object that had separated them was a halberd, a type of poleaxe, with a shining metal blade and shaft.
All present stared at the halberd in shock before looking to the sky for the source of the weapon. There, standing atop the tallest tower of the monastery was a man in gleaming, platinum armor, with gigantic white feathered wings. Some among the crowd screamed in fear, while others fell to their knees in prayer.
With one flap of his wings, the man was lifted from the tower, and he floated down to the ground with a gentle flap, flap, flap. He landed beside Elwin and pulled his halberd from the ground. Up close even H’nk had to admire his beauty; crystal blue eyes, long blonde hair and perfect features made the young alchemist quite jealous. Ororo could barely hide the look of longing from her eyes. If only she would look at him that way.
When he spoke, it was with confidence and determination. “People of Grom, I am Warren the Worthy, Archangel of the Legion of Light. From this time forward, the Priory of Solaris is under my protection. The Legion is striving to bring light and peace to all Parthoris and it will not tolerate any action against a holy place.”
H’nk was intrigued, he had never heard anything about a Legion of Light before. He whispered to Scott, asking what he knew, “Paladin zealots, working to rid the more wild regions of Parthoris of what they see as evil. That’s all I know.”
Many of the crowd seemed placated by the presence on an actual angel, long known to be divine messengers of good, that they left the monastery. Others begged the angel for forgiveness, but he ignored them, so they left warily, fearful of retribution. Most ignored the three strangers on horseback, though a few shot them suspicious glances. Graydon was the last to leave, but he would have the final word. “Your false idols can’t protect you forever, monk.” His voice dripped with venom.
Soon only Scott, H’nk and Ororo remained, apparently unnoticed by the monks and the angel. Elwin did not appear as thrilled by the appearance of Warren, the angel, as one would expect.
“Forgive my disrespect, Archangel, but the Priory does not need your assistance. We’ve long had an amicable relationship with Grom, and the likes of Graydon Creed won’t change that,” he said.
“Someone among your order begs to differ, honored priest. The Legion received a call for protection two days ago by messenger bird,” replied Warren and he casually placed his halberd through the straps on his back, between his wings.
Elwin spun about and eyed a much younger, thinner monk, with anger in his eyes. “Marcus, I specifically said we would not be calling for aid. How could you disregard my directions?”
Marcus cowed for a moment, seemingly fearful of upsetting his leader, “F…forgiveness sir, but I fear what the likes of Graydon and his followers could do to our beloved Priory. If we continue to harbor the…” his words escaped from his mouth before he could bite his tongue.
So it would seem the monks were hiding something or someone after all, perhaps a gifted like himself? Mused H’nk.
“Harbor the what?” demanded Warren.
Elwin’s shoulders slumped and he sighed in defeat. “We have a guest you should meet, Archangel, he…”
“Sir, we are not alone!” said Marcus sharply.
The monk’s and the Archangel all looked in the direction of the three strangers on horseback. H’nk waved awkwardly.
“Umm…good afternoon, friends,” he said, feeling foolish.
Scott groaned quietly and dismounted from his horse, the others followed suit. He led them over to the monks and placed a fist to his heart, the knightly salute.
“Greetings, humble men of faith,” he said, “I am Scott Summersett, squire to Lord Xavier of Greymalkin. These are my two companions, Hank Makoy and Lady Ororo.”
H’nk sighed silently to himself as Scott mangled his name once again but it was an issue for another time. The monk’s eyes the trio warily, whilst the angel looked more curious than worried.
“Greymalkin province is not far from the town of Nabras, is it not?” asked Warren. “Word amongst the Legion is that Nabras has suffered a fate most foul, as if an angry god reached down and smote it from the earth.”
Coldness gripped each Knight’s heart for a moment, as their minds were drawn back to that tragic day. It was evident on Scott’s face greatest of all as he had lost the most that day; his home, the man who raised him and the woman he loved.
“The fate of Nabras was a terrible one…what happened there remains a mystery,” H‘nk covered, as Scott appeared to be lost in his memory for the moment.
“You have come a long way, travellers. Have you come for enlightenment in our temple?” asked Elwin.
“We have come to aid one of your own who is in great danger,” said Ororo, getting straight to the point. “Please take us to him.” After being worshipped as a goddess for many years in her native land, she had come to expect people to do what she asked; it was a habit she was gradually starting to shake, though not on this occasion.
All of the monks, with the exception of Elwin, looked taken aback. The head monk merely looked up to the heavens in sorrow, as if asking his goddess for forgiveness. “We need no aid, friend,” he said.
Scott regained his composure. “Look friend, we know there is someone here who is…special.” He looked to each of the monks, trying to get a glimpse of any sort of reaction. “Someone who has a god-given ability, an unnatural blessing.”
H’nk couldn’t help but cringe at Scott’s choice of words; unnatural suggested evil. He regretted Xavier’s decision not to send Jean along with them; with her gifts she could have easily influenced the monks, though the ethics of that were questionable?
Unfortunately, my dear student, we have no time to ponder such ethics, said a voice within H’nk’s head. He jumped an arm’s length into the air in fright, which in turn startled all the monks and sent Warren into a defensive posture.
“Apologies,” he mumbled in embarrassment.
I did not mean to startle you H’kn but time is of the essence, said the voice of Xavier in his mind.
What would you have us do sir? The monk’s have no reason to trust us. Scott was now starting at him incredulously, as he was staring intently at a nearby tree.
While I am loathe to do so, I must influence them into trusting you. I fear Creed and his mob will return soon enough.
All of a sudden the monks and the archangel visibly relaxed, all except Marcus who still appeared noticeably on edge. Elwin’s eyes glazed over for the briefest moment, before looking upon the trio with a wide smile.
“There is good in your hearts, the Blessed Mother shows me this,” he said warmly, much to Marcus’ surprise. “Come and I will introduce you to mein son.”
The group were lead inside the monastery through a massive pair of oak doors. H’nk, though a man of alchemy, could still appreciate the love and care that went into the architecture of the building. Sculptures and carvings were chiselled into every wall, even across the ceiling, although he couldn’t fathom how they had done such a feat. Each carving depicted various images of a beautiful woman, with a look of love upon her face, holding a sphere within her hands. The young alchemist assumed the sphere was the sun, since Solaris was the sun goddess.
One carving caught Ororo’s eye and she examined it closely; it depicted Solaris, still holding the sun, weeping over the body of a man. The dead man also held a sphere, but his was covered in a cloth.
“What is this?” she asked curiously.
“Ah, the death of Auronus, king of the gods and husband of Solaris,” explained Marcus. “He was murdered by his dark brother Durghast, a crime for which he and his conspirators were exiled to a world of shadow.”
“A terrible victory for the forces of darkness that day,” stated Warren sombrely. “Before the death of Auronus there were two suns, and the world was forever bathed in light, but upon his death his light was extinguished and night was born. Some say the moon is a monument to his memory, other believe it is his corpse,”
H’nk, who liked to consider himself well educated, had never heard this story before, which bothered him more than a little. While most would see it as simply a long forgotten tale, he suspected it was another reminder of the old gods erased by the Twelve Divines. The cult had already taken over the Latverian empire in the east and now it was laying root in Parthoris. This troubled him more than he liked to say.
Before the group could get sidetracked again by another story, Scott said, “Elwin, sir, we are most eager to meet your son now.”
“Of course, of course, but please keep in mind that Khert is…unique,”
“We have seen some unusual things friend, we won’t be surprised,” assured Scott.
“Very well…Khert, please come out, I have some people who would like to meet you!”
BAMF!
A cloud of purple-black smoke suddenly exploded out of nowhere in the center of the chapel, in the center of which stood the most usual figure the group had ever seen. Warren, predictably, was the first to react, screaming, “Demon!” and leaping forward with his halberd to attack the creature. In another cloud of smoke the creature disappeared, reappearing behind Elwin.
“No! Stop! This is my son, Khert!” explained Elwin, with wide-eyed fear.
“You raised a demon for a son?!” demanded a shocked Warren.
“He’s not a demon!” yelled Elwin and H’nk in unison.
All eyes fell on the alchemist as he stepped forward and pulled the cloak from his body. Many of the monks gasped in surprised as H’nk revealed his inhuman, apelike physique. He could barely contain the shame as he thought of Ororo looking at both him and Warren side by side, unconsciously comparing the two.
“He’s not a demon,” he repeated, looking Warren in the eye. “He is different, blessed even. Are you one to question the choices of the gods? You yourself have clearly been chosen by a higher power.”
“Yes…but this is clearly a blessing,” the archangel gestured towards his wings. “How could that be anything more than a curse?”
“Because I have faith in the gods, mein freund,” spoke Khert for the first time. “I can do amazing things,” he back flipped into the air and actually stuck to the wall like a spider, “and I have used my gifts to help my brothers. How could that be a curse?”
Warren was clearly conflicted; he came from a world where things were black and white, good and evil. If something looked like a demon, then it evil and had to be killed. And yet here was something that clearly looked like it came from the pits of the void, but it had the love and trust of good, pious men. “He’s not a demon,” he repeated. His shoulders slumped as he sighed in defeat. “Very well, Elwin, I shall forestall judgement on your ‘son’ until I have watched him for a time, to learn if he is truly good.”
“You will not be disappointed,” smiled the elder monk in relief. “Now, let us eat. I shall have Marcus fetch a lovely meal for our fine guests…Marcus?”
He looked around the chapel, but Marcus was gone.
Graydon Creed was not one to be trifled with. If a group of dusty old men and a winged false idol thought they had the best of him they were sorely mistaken. More powerful men had fallen to his influence, and the word of the Twelve Divines was quickly gaining a foothold in Parthoris.
When he had heard rumors of a celestial church housing demon he pounced on the opportunity, gathering his most trusted men and heading straight from Grom. As always, it was a gradual process turning a town against its church. The seeds of dissent needed to be planted; false sightings of the demon, rumors from distant lands of horrible misdeeds done in the names of the celestial gods. Soon enough all he needed was a spark to light the inferno, and then a blessing fell into his hands in the form of Bogrin, a local farmhand, who happened to meet the demon face to face. Few would have believed the drunk, if not for the odd smell of sulphur permeating his clothes.
Over the next two days, the stink of sulphur continued to show up around the town; in an alley outside the butcher’s store, where one freshly bled lamb was stolen; again in the woods outside town, where an old man was struck from behind; and finally, outside Inan Cooperson’s home, where something dark was sighted trying to sneak into his children’s room last night.
He was rather proud of himself for orchestrating it all, and manipulating the town into a frenzy. If anyone had looked at the situation logically they could deduced that no one was actually harmed in any of the events. Even the old man who was attacked recovered after a short rest, his possessions not stolen. The panic riddled minds of the town though allowed him to tell them what he wanted them to think; the Priory of Solaris was evil and needed to be destroyed.
And then that damn angel ruined it all. How could the Priory be evil if an angel was protecting it? It was this thought that planted doubt in the minds of the townsfolk and diffused the mob. But once again the Twelve had smiled upon him for his pious work and sent another blessing to him.
The majority of the town congregated in the local tavern after sunset. The placed had become a real asset to Graydon; minds were much easier to manipulate when plied with ale. He had come straight here upon receiving the confirmation he had so sorely desired, while sending him men to gather as many of the townsfolk as possible.
“Good townsfolk of Grom,” he shouted over the noise of the crown, “I stand before you because I have come to love this town in the short time I have been here, and I cannot allow the cursed Priory to bring harm to you good people.”
The crowd began to quiet, eager to hear what he had to say, but a few dissenters spoke up, voicing their concerns over the archangel protecting the monastery or denouncing the thought of the Priory harming anyone. His men quickly and quietly took care of anyone who would impede his progress; it was difficult to notice someone being knifed in the back in such a large crowd.
“I have just received confirmation of what we all feared; the Priory is indeed harboring a foul demon.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of the man standing next to him, the young monk Marcus. “This brave man has come forward and confessed his sins to me. The Priory has indeed been harboring a demon within its walls for many years.” Cries of outrage erupted within the tavern. “What’s more, other evil creatures have joined the demon; an ape-like mockery of mankind, a brown skinned woman with the white hair of a witch and a false knight with fiery eyes.Together they surely plan to attack fine Grom and take your children like they tried to take Inan’s.”
He smiled inwardly as the mob erupted into cries of panic and fury. “Come, friends, let us march to the monastery and raze the cursed place to the ground!”
Marcus’ eyes widened in horror and he grabbed Creed by the arm. “No! You promised you would only take the demon and the outsiders!”
Graydon’s calloused knuckles connected with the monk’s nose, knocking him to the ground in a bloodied mess.
“Demon or not your kind are going to burn either way, be thankful you’re not sharing their fate.” He spat upon the monk and led the mob out on a mission of destruction.
While the disappearance of Marcus worried Scott, Elwin assured him the young monk was unused to outsiders and likely wanted some time alone. The other monks cooked them a simple meal of mutton, vegetables and bread; while the food was simple it was seasoned with delicious spices. It reminded H’nk of the foods his tribe used to eat when he was a boy; he locked the sad memories away and focused on the task at hand.
“So you have lived here your whole life, Khert?” he asked the…he wasn’t sure what he was yet.
“Yes, ever since I was a babe. The goddess brought me to the monastery, and my father raised me as his own son,”
That made sense, from what he understood, monks weren’t allowed to be with a woman, and thus could not father a child. Of course that didn’t always stop them.
“It is admirable, Elwin, that you would raise a child so…different, like he were any other,” said Ororo warmly.
“Yes, Brother, your Priory truly embodies the spirit of the Light Goddess,” added Warren awkwardly. He seemed a bit uncomfortable in such humble settings, not to mention the fact that he still wore his armor.
After their meal, Khert asked H’nk to talk with him privately outside. The sun had long since set and the young man said a prayer to Solaris, thanking her for her warmth. It was odd to watch someone of such demonic appearance praying to a goddess of light. He studied the young monk intently; by excluding the demonic parts, the hands, feet, tail, skin colour and eyes he concluded the young man was an elf. The slender frame, delicate facial features and pointed ears gave it away.
He awkwardly stood in silence, waiting for Khert to finish his prayer. Finally, when he had finished, he asked, “How old are you, Khert?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard but he answered in nonetheless. “I am thirty-three years old, and I have spent them all within the walls of my home,” he replied sadly.
That confirmed it; he had lived for thirty three years and yet looked to be only seventeen. He was of elfin origin.
“I…I was abandoned as a child too,” he said, after building up the courage. “My parents left my in the woods to die, ashamed of how I looked. Thankfully a tribe of beastmen found me and raised me as one of their own.”
Khert placed a hand on his new friend’s shoulder. “I shall pray for your parents souls,”
The young alchemist didn’t know how to respond to this, so he stood in silence, staring at the moon. Khert said a small prayer before disappearing in another cloud of smoke, leaving H’nk with a bad taste in his mouth.
BAMF! He returned, holding two wooden staffs and a grin upon his face. He tossed one to H’nk and deftly twirled the other.
“Do you know what mein father’s second name is? Wagstaff. It means wind staff in his old language.” He spun the staff rapidly around his body, whilst leaping through the air. H’nk was surprised he didn’t hit himself once. “The Priory is forbidden from drawing blood, so we may not lay hands on a blade, but a staff, while providing protection without undue harm, also supports us in our travels. Much like the goddess Solaris.”
“I was never one for using weapons,” he replied, though he did spin the staff around in his hand experimentally.
Khert laughed as he flipped through the air once again. “To me, this is not a weapon, but an escape.” He landed and struck a nearby tree three times in quick succession. “It stopped me from going mad when all I wanted to do was go outside and see the world.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled again. “It also helped me release my frustrations when father would scold me for taking too many sweet cakes from the kitchen.”
H’nk laughed but his mirth was cut short by the long line of torches he could see weaving their way up the path to the monastery. It reminded him of the tale of the fire serpent of Wagga Wagga, but this was no time for stories.
“Khert, warn the others a mob’s coming!” The elf teleported away as soon as he spotted what had his new friend so concerned. Meanwhile, the acrobatic young man scaled the tallest tree he could find to get a batter view of the oncoming rabble. It was too dark to make out any individuals but the line of torches stretched for almost a league; the entire town must have come.
Several minutes later he was joined by the others. “It doesn’t look good,” he explained. “I can hear the sounds of anger, even from here,”
“I shall fly down there and attempt to reason with them,” said Warren firmly, taking to the air before anyone could argue.
There was a pained look upon Khert’s face. “Father, this is mein fault; perhaps if I surrendered myself to them…”
“No son,” replied Elwin in a tone that broached no argument. “I will not give you to them at any cost.”
At that moment Warren returned, looking shocked. “They fired upon me! Those peasants called me a false idol!” It would seem the archangel had never experienced anything short of worship from the people of the world.
“That settles it then,” said Scott, “if Warren can’t make them see sense then I doubt any of us will be able to. We have to retreat.”
Elwin placed a hand on the squire’s shoulder. “There is no reason for you to stay, freund, so I tell you and your comrades to leave, but I will not abandon my home.” Khert and the other monks agreed.
“We won’t leave you in this time of need, Brother; we’ll stay and defend the monastery as best we can.”
H’nk couldn’t help but feel slightly bothered that Scott had made the decision to stay for all of them. No one had officially placed him in charge, but he seemed to fit the role naturally. Scott can lead, the alchemist certainly didn’t want the position.
“Let’s work on making this place more defendable,” he removed his glasses and twin beams of crimson fire erupted forth from his eyes. The others watched in shock or awe as he blasted a semicircular furrow around the front half of the monastery. “Ororo, fill these with water.”
Her eyes turned ivory white as a long chain of storm clouds amassed over the trench. A torrent of rain fell down and quickly filled the trench, turning it into a capable moat.
“Warren, take to the skies. Watch the mob and inform me of their movements.” The archangel seemed taken aback by the fact a mere squire was ordering him about, but he complied anyway, flying off into the sky once again.
To the monks he said, “You know this place better than me; go forth and secure it as best you can. Lock all doors, block any windows through an invader may gain entry. Go!”
Khert remained behind, looking to H’nk with sad eyes. “I could stop all this,”
“No, the people of Grom would raze the monastery to the ground anyway. It is better that we defend your home with all we have, until their fury is burned out and they see what they have become. The mentality of a mob can only drive it for so long,”
Scott wasn’t finished with his orders yet. The young squire was picking up the pace, like a single rock rolling down a hill, leading to an avalanche. “Ororo, we need snow and lots of it. Block the path. It probably won’t stop them but it will buy us time.”
“Shouldn’t we extend the moat all the way around?” she asked.
“There’s no time. Quickly now, snow!” She argued no further and conjured forth a terrible blizzard above the forest. Dozens of torches went out, extinguished by the terrible winds, though they had no way of telling if the mob had turned back.
Warren dropped from the sky, landing solidly on his feet and shaking the ice from his wings. “You could have warned me about the snow,” he said resentfully.
“Sorry, we’re losing time. What did you see?”
“Most of the crowd is still pressing on through your snowstorm, but they’ve been slowed at least. But I saw movement in the woods to the northeast; it appears some of them are trying to sneak around the back,”
“How many?”
“It was hard to tell, ten maybe.”
“Take me to where you saw them, I’ll deal with them.”
“No, I’ll go,” said H’nk, surprising himself. “You’re needed here to rally the defence.”
Scott looked unconvinced. “There’s ten men or more there, Hank…”
“I will come too,” the elf twirled his staff in a display of prowess.
“Ok go, but be careful.” The worry was evident on his face, even if he couldn’t see his eyes. His first mission with the knights had been a disaster; it was a miracle they survived. He didn’t want it to happen again.
“Take my hand,” said Warren, extending his right hand. H’nk took it within his own massive fist and the archangel took off. “Khert will have to run along below I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
H’nk dangled from the archangel’s hand as they sailed over the monastery, Khert disappearing and reappearing below them. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw several flashes of red light as Scott blasted down trees along the courtyard, forming another barrier.
“There they are, can you see them?” said Warren, pointing below.
H’nk could make out a few figures moving among the trees almost at the edge of the forest. In this light there was no way of knowing how many more there were. All of a sudden Warren dropped into a dive, presumably rushing in for the attack.
“Wait, we should try and talk them out of attacking first!” he tried to argue, but it was too late. The archangel let go of his passenger, essentially launching him down upon the ground like a human catapult.
As he hurtled down to the ground he tucked his legs in and somersaulted through the air, before crashing into three men and knocking them out cold. Five more men stood by in shocked silence.
“Excuse the interruption,” he said meekly.
One of the men snapped to his senses and leapt towards the young man, wielding a deadly looking short sword. There was a flash of metal through the trees and Warren’s golden halberd shot through the air like a spear, impaling the man in his upper back.
BAMF! Khert appeared in a ball of smoke directly behind another of the men. Before the man even knew what hit him he was knocked out by a blow to the back of the head. The elf deftly leapt through the air, striking another assailant in the face before knocking a third down with a kick to the chest.
H’nk quickly leapt upon the third man as he fell to the ground; he struggled but couldn’t move under the ape-like man’s weight. “Terribly sorry for this,” he apologized, before punching him in the face and knocking him out cold.
A single man was left standing. He surveyed the scene in open mouthed terror before he turned and ran for his life. A large shadow passed overhead and Warren dove down like a hawk attacking a mouse, snatching him up by the shirt collar. He confiscated the man’s dagger and dumped him at the foot of a large pine tree. He looked up in horror at three captors; an apeman, a demon and a stone faced angel.
“P…please don’t kill me,” he stammered.
“Shut up!” Warren punched him in the jaw.
“Where is your honor?” asked Khert firmly.
The archangel ignored the young monk and retrieved his halberd from the corpse it was still imbedded in. He casually wiped the blood off on the dead man’s shirt.
“You killed that villager,” said Khert softly, it was very likely he had never seen a dead man before.
“He wasn’t a villager, none of them are” explained H’nk, “Look at their fine clothes and high quality weapons. These are Creed’s men.”
“While Creed leads the villagers to attach the monastery, his men were going to sneak in the back and slaughter you all,” Warren looked livid. “Black hearted pigs!” he slammed the butt of his halberd into the prisoner’s face, stunning him.
“We need to get back to the church,” said Khert, clearly shaken by the violence he had witnessed.
As if on cue, a large cry of defiance could be heard from the courtyard. It would seem the villagers had broken through the defences.
Warren leapt into the air, his massive wings tossing pine needles into the air, grabbed H’nk’s wrist and lifted him into the sky once again. Once in the air they could clearly see the mob charging into the courtyard. Some clever person, likely Creed, figured out how to cross Scott’s moat; they used the trees he had blasted down as an extra barrier as bridges.
There were several flashes of red light as Scott used his eyes blasts to keep the pack at bay while he and Ororo retreated to the safety of the monastery. Massive, reinforced oak doors closed behind them, sealing the mob outside but also locking out H’nk, Warren and Khert.
The angel and the alchemist landed on the roof, and surveyed the scene below. Khert was only a moment behind them. It was clear the mob was impatient and lusting for destruction, though until they could gain entry they had to make do with destroying the Priory’s careful tended rosebushes.
Creed stood out most among the crowd, not only because of his fine attire, but because he was the only one standing dead still. He stared holes into the oaken doors, H’nk surmised he must have been waiting for the men he sent around the back to break in and open them. After a few minutes the man seemed to lose his patience; he reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew an item no bigger than an apple. The group couldn’t see it clearly from their vantage point but it glistened like a ball of polished silver.
FWA-BOOM! An invisible wall of force erupted from Creed’s item and blew the oak doors off their hinges.
Everything seemed to be going against Graydon; first an unnatural blizzard had arisen out of nowhere, making their passage difficult, and then they found the way blocked by fallen trees and a moat. How the monks could have possible dug a moat in time baffled him.
Thankfully he was a master of turning things to his favor. He convinced villagers the unnatural blizzard and obstacles were proof the demon was try to stop the reaching the cursed monastery. They lapped it all up.
By this time his men should be sneaking into the secret back passageway Marcus told them about. A handful of helpless old monks would be no match for them. The moat was easy enough to cross; he had some of the strongest men in the village lift some of the trees knocked down as barriers to use as bridges. Whoever planned this defence obviously had a lot to learn.
As they crossed the makeshift bridges they were assaulted with hail and multiple beams of hellfire. The angry villagers hurled both abuse and arrows at two figures; a young man with fiery red eyes and a white haired witch.
“More demons!” he cried. “Kill them!”
The mob charged across the bridges with a thirst for blood, but the pair was sealed away inside their church before they could be harmed. The church is now their tomb, he thought.
The crowd quickly filled the courtyard, but were unsure of what to do next; some threw stones at the windows, which were too high to reach, while others destroyed the garden. Graydon merely stood patiently awaiting his men to do their duty, but he sensed something was wrong. They should be in there by now.
He was losing the crowd, their lust for destruction was quickly burning out, and he needed more fuel. There was no choice he had to use his most precious item. It hung there in a pouch on his belt; he never let it off his person. As he reached in, his fingers caressed the smooth platinum surface and power surged through them.
To the ignorant eye, it was merely a polished platinum sphere, certainly valuable but not unique. They would be wrong. This was a blessing of the highest order; a boon from a member of the Twelve themselves, in reward for his dedication to spreading the word of his gods. It was known as Selene’s Wrath.
He held it at arms length, aiming at the doors, and willed it to work. The force was incredible, nearly blowing him off his feet, but he held firm, and the doors were blown from their massive hinges.
The crowd gasped in fear and awe, if he wasn’t careful they would flee in terror.
“Behold the power of the great goddess Selene! The Twelve Divines aid us in destroying these treacherous foes!” with that he charged into the monastery, his long sword in one hand and Selene’s Wrath in the other. Like the sheep the mob followed.
“Sorcerous dog!” spat Warren, as Creed used a clearly magical device to blast the doors open.
“We have to help my family!” cried Khert as he grabbed his comrades in preparation to teleport.
H’nk grabbed his wrist, “Wait! Don’t take us straight into the foray. If the villagers see us they’ll be even more incensed.”
“What would you have me do?” he asked, clearly impatient.
“Take us somewhere safe and out of the way first,”
The elf nodded in understanding and transported the trio to a small room with a bed and cupboard. The sensation of teleportation was difficult to describe, even for someone as educated as H’nk. For the briefest moment it had felt is if he had no weight at all, like he was falling from a great height, and he was carried through a place of impenetrable darkness. When he reappeared, a thick stench of sulphur choked his nostrils while a blackish-purple smoke burned his eyes.
Khert didn’t wait for them to gather their senses, instead rushing out the bedroom door. As soon as the door opened the sound of battle could clearly be heard. The angel and the alchemist charged after their comrade, and after a short run down a passageway found they were on a second story balcony above the chapel.
The chamber was crowded with angry villagers, who far outnumbered the monks, but surprisingly the holy men were holding their own. Each wielded a staff, just as Khert did, and they used them with a deft skill that far outmatched the miners and farmers of Grom.
Scott and Ororo were also making their contributions to the battle; the squire engaged multiple enemies as once with his long sword, likely afraid to use his powerful eye blasts for fear of bringing the building down, whilst Ororo summoned miniature storms to extinguish multiple small fires.
“Look, up there on the dais!” Warren sharp eyes spotted Graydon engaging Elwin in fierce combat, some of his men circling around to corner the old man.
“Father!” cried Khert before teleporting to the monk’s aid.
The elf appeared down below in a blur of motion, constantly disappearing and reappearing around all the men. His staff was a veritable blur as it slammed into each assailant. Villagers screamed in fear and outrage as the ‘demon’ appeared to attack them and many charged in to kill it. Ororo leapt to the aid of her new friend, creating a vortex of wind between the villagers and Khert. Many were sucked inside and hurled away, prompting the others to flee in terror.
Creed was not oblivious to what was going on around him as he clashed sword with Elwin’s surprisingly strong staff. He extended Selene’s Wrath in his enemy’s direction and created another blast of invisible force. Khert reacted almost in time, only taking some of blow when teleporting away, but Ororo, along with several villagers and monks, were not so lucky. The wall of force slammed them into a nearby wall causing them all to crumple to the ground like puppets with cut strings.
“Ororo!” screamed H’nk as his love fell. This drew Graydon’s attention and he blasted the balcony to pieces with his magical weapon. Warren floated to the ground effortlessly while H’nk’s agility proved to be his saviour. He leapt at the last minute, grabbing a banister and swing across to a pillar.
“We have to get that thing away from him!” cried Scott. Acting on his own advice, he raised his glasses and fired a small beam of power at Creed. The blast missed but it distracted him long enough for Elwin to knock the thing from his hand with his staff.
“Blasted old fool!” he screamed, increasing his furious assault on the old monk.
Meanwhile, H’nk had rushed to Ororo’s side. She was barely conscious and looked as fragile as a newborn. At that moment all the normally passive young man could think about was tearing Creed apart with his bare hands. Instead, he scooped the woman up in his arms and carried her to a safer location in a small doorway.
By this time Elwin was looking fairly exhausted; he was extremely well trained but he was still an old man. Graydon, meanwhile, was in the prime of his life and pressed his attack relentlessly. Suddenly, the old monk took a step back and ceased his attack. Creed hesitated for a moment, unsure of his foe’s game, before plunging his sword hilt deep into his chest in one vicious movement.
“Father!” cried Khert from nearby as the man who raised him fell to his knees. Creed pulled the sword from his chest and it made a horrid squelching noise that churned H’nk’s insides.
BAMF! The elf appeared besides Graydon and smashed his nose to pulp with his staff. He didn’t hold back in his flurry of attacks; slamming his weapon into the man’s face and torso before he could even react. A sharp strike to the kneecap sent the man to his knees; he looked up at Khert, not with fear but with satisfaction.
“Go ahead, demon, kill me. Prove me right.” He spat blood at Khert’s feet.
For the briefest moment it looked as if he was going to go through with it, crush his windpipe to smash his skull in, but he held firm. “You are the demon here. I am not going to take your life,” he said sadly, his voice tinged with pity rather than hate.
At that moment he realized the fighting had stopped; the villagers watched on in silence as the scene unfolded. Elwin’s murder, as he stood on without putting up a fight, had seemingly snapped the people of Grom back to their senses.
Khert ignored them; in fact he couldn’t even register them in his mind. All he could see was his father lying dead on the ground. The tears fell freely as he prayed beside the man who had been there his entire life. The other monks followed suit.
“Oh father, please forgive me, this is all my fault,”
“He is with Solaris now friend,” said Warren, with more compassion than any of them had heard him use before.
The people of Grom lost their fighting spirit after watching an old man murdered in cold blood and a supposedly monstrous demon weeping and praying over his body. Without a word they had left the monastery, eager to wipe this night of brutality from their minds.
The Priory of Solaris were not as lucky; they were left with the partial destruction of their monastery and the loss of their beloved leader, along with Marcus, who had fled Grom in the night.
As the sun rose that morning, Khert and the other monks laid Elwin to rest in a small cemetery behind the church. It was the perfect spot; no matter what time of day it was the sun would always shine upon him forever more.
After a night of rest and one of H’nk’s healing draughts Ororo was looking a lot better, though one of her arms would have to remain in a sling for several days. Scott, H’nk, Warren carried only cuts and bruises, while Khert’s wounds were on a much deeper level. It would take a long time before scars left by his father’s death were healed.
“So what will you do now?” Scott asked Khert after the funeral.
“The Priory will rebuild, this has been their home for too long to leave,” he said sadly.
“‘Their’?” asked the ever perceptive H’nk.
“I cannot stay here anymore. I have brought too much pain on my family.” He seemed hesitant to continue. “Could I travel with you? If you fear I would bring trouble I understand…”
“You’re more than welcome,” smiled H’nk.
“Thank you, fruends,” he managed a slight smile.
“And what about you, Warren,” Ororo asked the archangel, with a hopeful smile that pained H’nk. “You are blessed like us and are more than welcome to join us,”
“I thank you for the welcome but I must take Creed to the Legion of Light for justice and then return here to continue my protection. Although I’m not sure for how much longer they will need it.” He looked in the direction of the cemetery, where several villagers had arrived and laid flowers on Elwin’s grave.
Scott gave him the knight’s salute, placing his fist in his heart and nodding. “Good travels friend,”
The others said their goodbyes and Warren flew off to retrieve Graydon, who was chained up in the stables. They had yet to find his magical weapon, but they were confident once the monks located it they would take care of it.
Khert watched the villagers as they laid their flowers and said their prayers and was sure this was how Elwin had wanted it. He knew if he let Graydon kill him it would stop the fighting, he sacrificed himself.
As he left the monastery he looked over his shoulder to the rising sun. “Thank you father.”
Later that day, as the sun set and the Priory monks sat down in their dining room for a modest dinner, a lone figured entered the dimly lit chapel. It was difficult to tell where the shadows stopped and she began as she walked with confidence through the holy place.
At first glance, one would see a beautiful young woman with skin as white as porcelain and long ebony hair, wrapped in an elegant black gown. Her hard, dark eyes belied an age beyond her appearance though.
Those same eyes took in the various sculptures of Solaris with disdain as she looked through the rubble of the chapel. With a smile she found exactly what she was looking for: a platinum ball the size of an apple.
“Creed really should have taken better care of my gift,”
She smiled cruelly and unleashed the full fury of Selene’s Wrath.
To Be Continued...
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