Authors: James Wolf
‘
The light protect me
!’ Taem gasped. He could feel the evil emanating from those black-robed figures. Taem assumed they must have been Dark Servants of superior rank – maybe they were Seers? Only one figure, menacing over the Dark altar, had its black hood pulled down to reveal its face. Taem shuddered when he saw that face. He knew that face was the source of all the foreboding that he sensed. The creature exuded malice. Taem’s hands began to tremble, and he grasped Estellarum for reassurance. All three warriors shrank down away from that horrific face. Taem saw how that face’s black soulless eyes were incapable of pity, and brimming with evil.
‘Baku,’ Baek whispered, too scared to breathe.
‘Odrin do give me strength,’ Forgrun dropped his head. His knuckles went white, he was gripping his axe so tightly.
Without any sign the sinister chanting stopped. Taem, Forgrun and Baek all jumped, and ducked down behind the balcony’s wall. They had been in such shock that they had just been standing up on the balcony like fools. Now they crouched down, with their eyes peeking over the rock wall.
A black-hooded individual stepped forward to address the congregation, ‘I am Pledged to the Great Lord. My soul I give to the Darkness. My heart exists in the black of the Shadow.’
All the other Maliven repeated this Dark oath, and Taem saw he was not the only one of the companions that shivered at these damning words.
The black hooded man who had first spoken, who seemed to be conducting the mass, said in his hollow voice, ‘Our Lord’s power grows with every passing day. Soon the Shadow of his hand will spread out over all the lands. His faithful servants will be rewarded, and his cursed enemies of the Light destroyed.’
Taem noticed this Maliven wore a bronze medallion of a six pointed star.
‘The Prince of Darkness will soon be with us,’ the frosty voice continued, ‘then let all who oppose our Great Lord tremble with fear. Darkness will sweep the earth, and all the good peoples will be enslaved. Only the loyal Maliven will go unpunished, as governors ruling the slaves in the name of our Great Lord.’
‘Our souls and our lives belong to the Dark,’ the Maliven congregation chorused, ‘we exist to serve the Great Lord.’
This time, the Baku spoke in a soulless, rasping voice, ‘Our Dark Master sees and knows
all
.’
That demonic voice chilled Taem to the bone. Baek cowed down in terror, clamping his hands over his ears. Forgrun gripped his axe, and Taem could see even his mighty hand was shaking. Taem thought the Baku’s voice made his soul tremble. He held onto Estellarum’s hilt like his life depended on it.
The Light will shine on my blade
, Taem thought to himself.
The Light will shine on my blade!
‘An old enemy of our Great Lord has come within the city.’ The Baku hissed. ‘It is our Dark Master’s desire the Firefist, and any that travel with her,
be killed
.’
At that moment a small, hunched, Krun-like figure, with folded leathery wings, approached the Baku, bowing as it did so. Taem saw it was two foot tall, with sooty grey skin, and dull yellow eyes. Taem watched as it muttered something to the Baku.
‘It seems,’ the Baku spat, ‘we are not alone.’
The Nightdemon glared up to the balcony where the warriors were hiding, its eyes black pits of malice. It was the most horrible moment Taem had ever experienced. He felt as if his stomach had dropped to his feet. Taem caught the Baku’s gaze and all his muscles turned to ice. The glower of the demon made him too frightened to speak. The three companions looked to each other in dread. The Baku pointed up to the balcony. Taem watched as the hundreds of crimson robed Maliven turned to look, and that was a terrifying image. Because of the shadows in the torchlight, all those cowls looked as empty as the lost souls that hid inside them.
‘Spies!’ The Baku howled.
‘Decu watch o’er us,’ Forgrun mumbled.
Taem spun round. There were footsteps coming up the stairs towards the warriors.
‘We’ve got to get out of here!’ Baek hollered, as all three warriors leapt to their feet.
‘This way!’ Taem led them along the balcony, away from the footsteps, and down a different passage. As Taem and Baek ran past a dark side-tunnel, a red-robed figure leapt out in front of Forgrun to tackle him. The Maliven got smashed to the floor by the charging Rhungar. The Dark Servant’s crimson hood and cloak fell back to reveal the blue and yellow uniform of a Defender of the Gate. Forgrun gaped. The Black Servant had a beard, a mark of an officer. The mortified Defender officer turned and covered his face, as he frantically pulled his hood back over his head.
‘Leave him!’ Taem shouted back to Forgrun. There was no time to stop running.
The warriors came to a fork in the passage. The left hand route was lit by torches, the right hand side was black. Taem grabbed a torch off the wall, as Baek and Forgrun glanced back.
‘Which way?’ Baek said anxiously. The sound of countless feet, trampling down the passage towards them, was catching up fast.
‘This way!’ Taem led his friends on down the unlit tunnel.
They ran flat out for what seemed minutes on end, and always the sinister patter of pursuing feet was not far behind.
‘Hurry!’ Taem roared, but they were going as swiftly as Forgrun’s pace would allow. Taem’s eyes delved into the darkness up ahead. He strained his ears for danger, ever alert. An enemy could emerge from the black at any moment. Fear had been forgotten, excitement now coursed through Taem’s body as he ran, giving fire to his muscles and sharpening his senses. The light pad of the Aborle’s feet, Forgrun’s heavy clumping and Taem’s loping steps echoed through the black. Their torch flickered, animating their own shadows, deceiving the companions into thinking there were figures looming in the dark. The Rhungar was gasping for air as they continued their relentless pace. Again, Taem took a right fork in the tunnel where, after a while, the rough passage began to slope upwards.
Taem allowed them to stop for a breather, at which point Baek – who was at the back, making sure Forgrun did not drop behind – turned to see the glow of torchlight far back down the tunnel.
‘They pursue, and in large numbers,’ the Aborle’s keen ears could hear the footfalls of countless running bodies.
‘Come on,’ Taem pulled Forgrun along.
The Rhungar was exhausted, but somehow managed to get his legs moving again.
The companions raced alongside a stinking sewer, turned down another passage and joined a different sewer. Baek retched as they ran past those sewers, and the stench filled his mouth and lungs. Taem tried to map their direction in his head, always taking the turning he thought would take them furthest away from the giant catacomb of the Black Mass.
‘There’s a ladder up ahead!’ Taem gasped, in between heaving gulps for air, as he ran forward and climbed the cast iron ladder. It took them up to another passageway that they followed for a time, until… no! Taem panicked as a wall loomed out of the darkness. He had led them to a dead-end!
‘Damn it!’ Taem cried out in frustration, as Forgrun and Baek caught him up. They were all panting for breath. Taem wished for some fresh air as he gulped in mouthfuls of the tunnel’s stale air. His brow dripped with sweat. Forgrun’s gargantuan chest was expanding to an even greater size than normal, as his lungs laboured harder than they ever had before.
‘We’ll have to turn back,’ Taem said, in between deep breaths. But how could they head back
towards
their pursuit? They would be outnumbered hundreds to one!
‘Wait!’ Forgrun wheezed, as he came up to the tunnel’s end. ‘It not be solid,’ the Rhungar tapped the wall with his knuckle. ‘Stand back!’ Forgrun barked, as he drew his axe over his shoulder. The Rhungar used his axe’s counter-balancing spike to smash the wall at the dead end. Again and again Forgrun crashed his axe into the wall, creating a huge dust cloud so the three of them, choking and coughing, were soon caked head to foot in grime. Taem and Baek anxiously watched the darkness behind them, expecting red robed figures to come swarming out of the murky black. Forgrun battered a hole big enough for them to squeeze through.
‘Go!’ Forgrun bellowed.
The companions were through into the basement levels of an ancient building. Taem saw they were in an old stone room that, by the layers of dust on the floor, had not been used for years. The warriors came up against a locked door, which Forgrun made swift work of with his axe. After a long stone passage, the warriors were through another door into a grand chamber with magnificent stone tablets set into the walls. Taem could just make out, by his flickering torch, the adorned ceiling was domed. The stone tablets were grey like mountain rock, and had flowing gold marks carved into them.
It
was
gold! Taem found out, as he ran his hand over the cool metal. He thought this chamber was unusual, as there was no centrepiece to the windowless room. The stone flagstones on the floor were bare, not even a rug covered them. Taem held the torch up to examine the tablets of stone as Baek and Forgrun searched frantically for a way out. Taem could see the gold markings were writings of the ancient tongue. He knew little of the old Sartorian language, but some parts he could make out.
As Taem ran his eyes over the words of the ancient tongue, he translated aloud as best as he could, “Master of Old Ways that are lost.” One line read. “Lord of Battle revered in might,” he thought another part roughly translated as. “Only one can draw Demon’s Bane from Flame”. And, there was a continual reference to the “Time of Reckoning” and “The Swordbearer”. Taem puzzled over these tablets, as his two friends hunted through the dark for a way out.
A door flew open and a priest of the Light burst in. The companions leapt towards the priest with their weapons raised, but they all pulled back when they saw the robes, the round bald spot and the haughty hooked nose. The priest stumbled back and almost feinted. He gulped in a big mouthful of air, and then glared at the three warriors.
‘What are you doing here?’ The priest said pompously. ‘How
dare
you? The chamber of the Swordbearer is private, and secret to all but the most learned scholars. Get out!’
Forgrun and Baek did not need to be asked twice, and they grabbed Taem and brushed past the self-important priest.
They climbed a long stairway and charged out into a well-lit room full of people, and Taem realised they were in Dolam’s cathedral, with its world-famous fresco ceiling looming overhead. The extravagant main chamber had hundreds of occupied chairs arranged to face the plain stone altar, and natural light filtered in through sweeping stain glass windows – Taem was so glad to see outside light again. Everything in the cathedral was so fine, from the gilding that edged the marble pillars, to the tasselled cushions on all the chairs. Unfortunately, amongst all the splendour, the three warriors – plastered with layers of dust and sweat – stuck out like rocks amongst jewels.
Taem could see he and his companions had interrupted a service, and the incredulous crowd was full of the city’s high-born. Taem felt his cheeks burning red, at being scrutinised by hundreds of scornful eyes, as he realised he and his friends must have looked ridiculous caked in dust.
‘So let us give thanks…’ the bishop giving the sermon trailed off, as he realised all his audience were gawping at the intruders.
The cathedral was quiet enough for Taem to hear Forgrun’s heavy breathing. Baek’s nervous gaze swept from side to side. Taem saw aloof people glaring with contempt at the three warriors, whilst he could see the more laid-back observers were doing their utmost to hide their smiles. But then Taem remembered he and his friends were still running for their lives. He gestured for Baek and Forgrun to follow, as he strode away. He tried to walk like Logan did, confident and powerful, oblivious to the gawking aristocrats. The three companions paced down the aisle between the rows of seats, as the crowd murmured their disdain.
‘What in the name of the Light?’ The bishop boomed, as the three companions scampered for the door without turning back.
Taem motioned for the companions to hurry. There was no way they were going to stay around for explanations – explanations they would have to give from a prison cell.
‘Defilers!’ The priest who had found the warriors screamed, as he emerged from the stairs into the main chamber.
‘Oh dear,’ Baek whispered, as the companions hurried for the door.
Several of the noblemen in the congregation rose from their seats, some reached for their weapons.
‘You there,’ a nobleman drew his sword, ‘come back here!’
‘Do run!’ Forgrun yelled, as people rushed to get hold of them.
The three companions sprinted out the cathedral, down its front steps and into the streets of the Ecclesial Quarter. Angry shouts pursued them, but the warriors’ swift feet carried them free.
The companions did not stop running until they crossed the Treymar into the Southside.
‘Now I do be glad,’ Forgrun gasped, ‘o’ all ye runnin’ Logan do make me do on journey ter Dolam.’
‘You ran well, friend,’ Taem touched the Rhungar on the shoulder, and patted Baek on the back. ‘Come, we must make haste.’
They were lucky they had not run into a Defender, who would have questioned why they were shrouded in dust and running away. Fortunate indeed, Taem thought, now he had seen the Defenders were compromised by the Maliven. It was dusk by the time the three young warriors returned to The Jester, and the trio of weary companions trampled down the shabby passage to the secret Sceptre Room.