Ferrin sat perched on the sill of a
window, high above the village's boundary. He listened intently as people, his
people, told him their history; how it was they came to live in such seclusion
among the ageless. An old drudic sat on a heavy legged chair facing Ferrin,
smoking a long stemmed pipe. The smoke from the pipe carried the scent of
cherry in the air. The old man was named Zael. He was one of the eldest among
the Casaama tribe, having lived for nearly two hundred years.
Humans were that brutal? The ones
that I travel with don't seem that hostile toward others, except Grim, perhaps.
But he's like that with everyone he meets.
Three hundred years has not matured
them so much, Ferrin. They have only learned how to cloak that bloodlust under
the guise of nobility. Styrie signed in return toward Ferrin. The ageless
warrior had been standing near the door to the sitting room the entire time
Zael told him of the Casaama tribe's long journey north. The warrior was barely
small enough to fit inside the sitting room, while Ferrin couldn't reach the ceiling
if he leapt as high as he could manage.
"I know not this strange way of
speaking you do, young Ferrin. What was he saying, Styrie?"
"He wishes to know how humans
can be so brutal, old Zael."
"It is a fear as old as time,
Ferrin. Humans, better than any other race on this land, fear what they do not
know. And since they fear it, they cannot have it near them. That was our
people's fate, though I cannot begin to tell you how it was that you were so
far south with no memory to who your parents are."
Is that what happened to the
gedra, Styrie? Did you come north because of humans fearing your kind?
Ferrin asked the white skinned giant. Styrie seemed to consider the question
for a time, and then shook his head.
It is not for me to say, young
Ferrin. You will have your chance to hear of my people's plight if your
companions manage to procure the soul blazer from Bryan Stormfyre's tomb.
How is it that you can speak
sign, Styrie, or are you not allowed to tell me that, either?
The ageless laughed heartily,
holding his hands against his stomach and rocking forward. "No, Ferrin. I
am not forbidden to speak of it. It is merely a talent that my people possess.
All I must do is hear, or in your case, see any language for a moment and I
will know it as though I were born speaking it."
"Someone approaches," Zael
told them, looking toward the door. Ferrin noticed a second later. The sound of
light footfalls approached the door and rapped lightly from outside.
"Enter," Zael called out,
taking the pipe from his mouth.
The door opened and another Casaama
entered, breathing heavily as he nodded respectfully first to Zael and then to
Styrie. He gave Ferrin a warm grin, one which Ferrin returned.
"What is it?" Zael asked
the drudic.
"There is fire to the north,
Zael! The village on the boundary of the wall is aflame!"
"Is that not where your
companions were heading, Ferrin?" Styrie questioned, his face darkening.
Ferrin shot him an angry look.
Not all humans are barbarians,
Styrie! I don't care what you might be thinking; I know Damien and the others
didn't start any fire, not unless someone attacked them first! Ferrin
glared defiantly at the ageless warrior. I happened to notice that the
ageless didn't take too kindly to humans appearing at their village's boundaries.
"You do not know what you say,
Ferrin. I apologize for casting aspersions on your friends, but take care not
to speak so openly of things you know nothing of."
"Stop bickering!" Zael
commanded, looking back and forth from Styrie to Ferrin, "I feel quite the
fool being only able to hear half of what is said. I feel like one of my ears
has fallen asleep." Ferrin grinned sheepishly at the elder drudic and
Styrie mumbled an apology.
"Should I go and see what has
happened?" the other drudic questioned.
"Certainly not," Zael told
him, "They will come to us. We will learn what happened to the village
then. I smelled more humans on the plains before. It would be dangerous to
travel with them about. Lately the Eagle's troops have been more active, so we
had best wait here where it is safer."
Ferrin cast his gaze over the plains
of snow and sighed heavily. He could smell the faintest scent of smoke on the
wind when he scented it. He closed his eyes and prayed that the good father was
alright wherever he was at the moment.
Damien slid to a halt on the hall. A
large iron ringed gate barred his path farther. Beyond the heavy gate was an
expansion of the hall. The floor broadened and there were gears and valves set
in stone. Twin pipes ran back and then twisted down, vanishing along the ridge
of the wall. There was a second gate on the other side of the gears, and a
bolting lock to keep it closed. Kirstin slammed into the gate right after the
priest, wrapping her hands around the bars of the gate and shaking them back
and forth.
"We need to get this
open!" Kirstin screamed, spinning around and wrenching her sword out.
"Step aside Kirstin
Telba," Verion said as he made his way to the gate, "I will get you
past the gate." The centiant clamped down on the bars and pulled back with
all of his strength. Grunting with the effort, Verion ripped the gate clean off
of the hinges, hefting it over his head and turning to face the Honor Guard.
"Go through," he told them. Damien and Kirstin slipped past the open
gate as Verion leapt toward the first of the men that were attacking. He used
the bars as an enormous club, swiping back and forth. The Honor Guardsman
ducked the first blow and stood to deliver one of his own when the gate slammed
him hard on the back, making him pitch over the edge of the hall and fall
headfirst into the boiling lake below them.
"Bastard!" another guardsman
cried out, lunging forward and sliding the length of his sword into Verion's
side. The centiant cried out, dropping the gate off the hall. As the guardsman
pulled the sword free of the bloody wound that it made, Verion leaned closer
and backhanded that man in the head, making his helmet fly off of his head.
Arms flinging backward, he dropped onto his back, his sword flying from his
hand. The centiant pitched onto the guard rail, one hand holding the deep stab
wound as blood flowed freely from it.
"Father!" Cameron yelled
as he swung at the last standing guardsman, "Get Verion out of here before
he bleeds to death! I'll hold them here!"
"I cannot leave you here,
Cameron!" Damien shouted back as he scooped up the injured centiant,
helping Verion to steady himself on wavering legs.
"This isn't a debate,"
Cameron snarled at him, "Now go!"
Damien aided Verion into the room
filled with gears as Cameron squared off with the guardsman.
"So, Emeron was right. You are
helping the enemy, Cameron," the guardsman said as he leveled his blade.
"Dag?" Cameron ventured,
"Dag Alwood? I thought you would have more sense than to partake in such a
dastardly task, Dag. What are you doing here?"
"Maybe I came here to finish
off a lousy traitor, Cameron. And what would you know of my duties? What would
you know of any duty?" Dag didn't wait for a reply; instead he lunged
forward and thrust his sword forward. Cameron turned it aside and balled up his
free hand, punching the man in the face. Dag stumbled a few steps, bringing his
sword before him. A line of red dribbled down his chin and onto his collar. Dag
glowered, swiping the blood away.
"Come ahead then," Cameron
said. They moved at the same instant, flashing steel locking time and again, the
ring echoing over the expanse of the plains before them. Cameron attacked and
Dag blocked, pushing it low. Dag took the offensive and Cameron parried the
attack, making the length of steel slam hard on the metal rail. A dozen times
in as many heartbeats their blades connected, spraying golden sparks over the
mist that trailed at their ankles. Then Cameron twisted his sword in his right
hand when the Dag's sword came down on his and let it fall into his left. Dag
saw the counter a second late, attempting to bring his sword down. Cameron
slashed hard against the plate Dag wore on his chest and breeched it, cutting
the rib and muscle that was underneath.
Dag let out a choked sound from his
throat and staggered back. Cameron cross cut, bringing his sword in for a
second stroke that opened Dag's armor and flesh all along his chest. Gasping,
face paling with shock, Dag Alwood dropped against the rail and slumped over
dead.
"You're as skilled with a sword
as you ever were, Cameron."
Cameron spun about to watch as the
last guardsman rose to his feet, nearly swooning from the centiant's punch. He
stepped back and scooped up his fallen sword, keeping a steady eye on the
warrior. Cameron didn't lead the attack. He was staring into the cold blue eyes
of the guardsman. Tufts of dark brown hair framed his handsome face, a face
that Cameron knew all too well.
"You learned well from Anifall.
I'm glad that he won't be present to witness this," the guardsman raised
his sword in silent challenge.
"Brother," Cameron said to
Emeron Jaist, captain of the Honor Guard.
"Do not call me that!"
Emeron spat out, "My brother died along with Lord Mikal Steelbreeze! All
that is left of him is an honorless traitor that wears his face!"
"There is no honor in serving a
tyrant, Emeron."
"Do not dare to speak so of his
majesty! He is your king, Cameron Jaist!"
"He is no king of mine, Emeron.
He isn't even fit to be the ruler of a brothel."
"You are still insufferable,
Cameron. Why are you siding with the ageless? Have you sunken so low that you
now consort with barbarians?"
"You show how little you know
by opening your mouth, Emeron. The ageless have faced more tragedy, I think,
than either of us will ever know. I came here with a companion of mine to learn
the truth."
"Quit making excuses for your
actions!" Emeron screamed at him, "You killed Dag!"
"He attacked me."
"He was performing in the
king's name! He was doing his duty! Where does your duty lay, Cameron?"
The warrior raised his sword to Emeron, leveling the point when it was aiming
for his throat.
"I have found my duty, it
seems. I will guard my charges no matter the cost, brother. If that means
killing you, then so be it."
"So be it," Emeron echoed.
The brothers lunged forward and locked swords, both men trying to overpower the
other. Cameron put a foot past Emeron's and pushed hard. The guard commander
tripped over Cameron's foot and dropped back, slamming his head into the metal
rail that ran the length of the boiling lake. Emeron almost bit his tongue off
in the fall. He pulled his arms close to his sides and rolled the length of the
walk, making Cameron jump past him. The guard commander was quick to stand up
despite the throbbing pain in the back of his head and ran into the fenced off
room that was filled with the piping and valves.
Cameron gave chase, following his
brother into the room and stopping when Emeron leapt over one of the long metal
pipes, spinning on his heel as soon as he landed. Emeron gave the room a quick
sweep over, looking at the valves and gears that were half buried in the slick
stone floor. The valves appeared to be some type of ancient pressure control,
and the pipes might have been hydraulics. Emeron suddenly realized what they
were standing upon. It was an old dam, and a giant one at that. The enormous
plates of iron were holding back the boiling lake from the frozen plains. It
was a wonder the Eagle's men hadn't found this sooner.
His attention was drawn back to
Cameron when the warrior leapt over the piping and brought his sword down on Emeron's.
The guard commander pulled away, leaning far off to one side and running his
sword along the extent of Cameron's thigh. The sharpened steel bit through the
armor and laid open his leg. Cameron fell back with a pain filled cry, striking
one of the gears with his back and almost flipping over it. Emeron followed
through with his advantage, chopping down with furious blows on Cameron's
upraised sword. The warrior slipped around the rain of steel and spun low on
one knee, slashing out with a backhand stroke for his brother's legs. Emeron
parried the blow by stabbing his blade right against the iron floor, then
wrenching it back up, nearly taking Cameron's sword along with it.
Screaming a hoarse cry, Emeron cross
slashed. Cameron blocked the first blow and glanced sharp steel off of the
second, deflecting the blade from his neck but failing to keep it from finding
his shoulder. The sword tore through armor and flesh alike, pulling a bloody
spray along with it when it passed up. Cameron gritted his teeth and launched a
booted foot out, kicking Emeron in the midriff and making him stumble back.
Cameron leapt after the guard commander, slashing and stabbing, thrusting and
chopping with a grace that bellied his gruff exterior. Emeron was hard pressed
to turn aside the warrior's probing sword, twisting his own this way and that
with all the speed he could muster.
At last Cameron caught him where his
defense failed, the sword slashing hard on his right hip and turning deep blue
plate bright red. As Emeron faltered on his now bad leg Cameron pulled his
sword back and thrust for his heart. The guard commander dropped at the last
second, letting Cameron bury his blade between gear teeth. Emeron crouched immediately,
slashing toward the warrior's stomach, face contorted with battle rage. Cameron
jumped over the attack, flying over Emeron and the pair of gears where his
blade was caught. He rolled hard on his shoulder, keeping tight hold of the
sword. There was a tight snap when he dropped to the ground behind the gears.
He carried only half his sword now, the point of it broken, stuck in the metal
teeth of the heavy gears.
"Give this up, Cameron,"
Emeron said from the other side of the gears, somewhere close, "You don't
have to die here. I'll let you go if you leave now."
"How gallant of you, brother.
But I have my loyalties. They may not be to the kingdom any longer, but that
doesn't mean they're any less strong for it."
"What would you know of
that?" Emeron growled, sounding like he was further toward the back of the
gears, circling him. Cameron crouched around, eyes scanning the floor for his
shadow. Emeron seemed to be crouched as well, not far from a small pipe that
stuck straight up from the floor. A circular valve was bolted to the top of the
pipe.
"How can you follow that man,
Emeron? Mikal stood for justice. He was a benevolent ruler. Darius is growing
mad, madder by the day. How can you not see that? Are you so blinded by pride
that you won't open your eyes to the truth?"
"I know truth!" Emeron
yelled at him, "But my honor binds me to the oaths I gave. Do you even
recall that day, Cameron? We pledged to serve the king no matter the cost to us
until death. You broke the oaths. How can you still call yourself a man?"
"That day, kneeling before
Mikal, was one of my proudest days ever. Pride is a shallow thing, Emeron. I
learned that lesson the hard way. Save yourself that pain, brother. Or it might
be the final lesson you ever learn."
"Your words are hollow,"
Emeron retorted, sounding farther back. His shadow had withdrawn to the edge of
the room where the twin lengths of pipe were kept. "I will follow the will
of my king. Do you know what these pipes and valves are for, brother?"
Cameron scanned the cluster of metal works and cursed under his breath. "I
will take it from your silence that you do. I have had my men withdraw, the
last given order as I charged the gates. They will be safely away from this
place, waiting for me. I will lose nothing by opening the flood channels that
these valves control. The plains will be awash in the boiling lake, and so too,
will the girl that you seek to keep from me if she has made it down
there."
"So will the ageless villages
that fill the plains, Emeron! You look for a coward's way out! Do you not have
courage enough to kill her face to face? You know her face will haunt you for
the rest of your life. Her name is Kirstin Telba, Emeron! Remember it!"
"Shut up!" Emeron cried
out, and then came the sound of old, rusted metal squeaking as it turned. One
of the valves was being opened. In the time it took Cameron to rise from where
he crouched and make his way for his brother he could already hear the inhuman
screech of metal sheets grating against one another. A hum made the floor
vibrate gently as a roar shattered the silence across the plains. Behind him,
on the other side of the wall of the ageless, boiling water geysered out,
spraying nearly a hundred feet before crashing into the valley floor, turning
frost white into dead brown as thousands of millions of gallons of water fought
for release.
"Emeron!" Cameron screamed
over the roar of the dam behind him, slashing down and across with two handed
strokes. Emeron blocked the first and leaned away from the second, using his
bad hip as a pivot point. Swords locked again and Cameron slid his blade to
Emeron's hilt, twisting it against the pipeline. The metal had suddenly become
very hot and Emeron screamed when his forearm rested against it. The iron floor
heaved suddenly, shifting from one position to another, and both of the
combatants fell to the floor, rolling over one another. Cameron kicked his
brother off of him and lunged for the valve that Emeron had turned open. He
spun it about and leapt back when it fell from the end of the pipe, steam
leaking out where an iron bolt had once been.
"You can't stop it now!"
Emeron cried out from behind him and Cameron reared about to face him, rage
making his blood boil. "We have chosen our paths, brother! Now let us see
which of us has the strength to make our convictions endure!"
"Are you trying to convince me
or yourself, Emeron?"
The guard commander didn't respond
with words, instead taking up his sword and stabbing in wildly. Cameron parried
the thrust and trailed his broken sword along Emeron's, pushing the chipped end
into the mesh on the guard commander's side. Grunting and letting a hand fall
to cover the raw wound under his chain armor, Emeron chopped high for Cameron's
head and then his mid section. The warrior slammed his sword against both
attacks and returned with one of his own, nearly taking the guard commander's
ear off when it flashed off his shoulder plate. Emeron stepped back from the
blow and cut across but Cameron was too swift, letting the steel dull itself on
an iron gate, balling a fist up and punching at the same time. Emeron flinched
with the burst of pain in his temple and dropped to his knees, cutting at the
same instant. Cameron let out a breathless groan when the sword found his side,
piercing the leather armor and dealing him yet another wound. Not even pausing,
the guard commander cut up, taking the warrior from his midriff all the way off
his shoulder. Cameron Reol fell to his back, a hand springing out behind him to
try to keep him upright.
Emeron watched numbly as Cameron
slumped first to his side, panting as his life's blood flowed out of him, and
then fell to his back, sprawled out in a heap, eyes fixed on the thin sheet of
iron that composed the gear room's ceiling. Forcing himself to stand, Emeron
Jaist hobbled over to his brother and raised his sword, ready to deliver the
death blow.
"Cameron! No!" Damien
Alohm came from nowhere, taking Emeron off guard as the priest slammed his mass
into him and pushed him out of the gear room. The pair struggled on the high
walk, Damien clamping his hand over Emeron's wrist to keep the man from using
his sword. Emeron brought his knee into the priest's stomach and took the wind
from him but Damien shoved harder, making Emeron double backward over the
railing. He caught himself there with a free hand, dropping the sword into the
raging flow of water below. For a moment priest and soldier shared a look, both
men considering the other. Then Damien went to clasp his hand over Emeron's and
pull him onto the walk. The guard commander unsheathed a dagger and slashed
wildly, slicing the priest's forearm open with its keen edge. Damien gasped and
staggered back, watching red blossom all over his arm. Emeron's wild attack
jarred his arm and made him plummet down feet first toward the rapid river of
his own creation.
At least it will be over, Emeron
thought fleetingly before the river claimed him. There was no trace of the guard
commander when Damien peered over the edge. Then the flood of boiling water was
abating, trickling in a steady current down the side of the steaming metal wall
rather then gouting out in a frenzy. A lake had formed in a valley only a half
mile from the wall of the ageless, shaped into a perfect bowl over the frozen
ground. Sheets of vapor rose like pure white smoke into the air as the hot
water cooled against the cold air.
Damien bent down over Cameron,
scooping the warrior up in his arms and letting his head rest on his thighs.
Cameron was vaguely roused by the priest, eyes flickering open to see who was
there. A smile formed on his face when he looked up at Damien. Blood flecked
his lips, leaking from one corner of his mouth.
"Be still, Cameron. I will ask
the One to heal you," Damien told him, eyes bright as he fought to control
tears. A feeling of helplessness crept over him when he called to the One and
failed to feel the gentle warmth of his God's touch. Hands trembling as he
clasped them in prayer, Damien closed his eyes and prayed more earnestly for
the power. Again the feel eluded him. Hot tears ran down his cheeks.
"Father," Cameron said
weakly.
"Yes' Cameron," Damien
replied, making himself stare only at Cameron's eyes. Name of the One, there
was so much blood.
"Take Kirstin back to the
village of the ageless. Find the answer you came here seeking. Is Verion
alright?" Cameron's head lolled from one side to the other and his eyes
rolled back in their sockets. Shaking his head, Cameron forced himself to
remain conscious.
"I healed him, Cameron. He will
live."
"Good," Cameron said
softly, "Now go. There is more Honor Guard about. You must avoid them at
all costs."
"I won't leave you here,
Cameron! You're coming with us!"
"I'm dying, father. Don't shed
tears for me. We all die. We're dying from the moment of birth. This is how I
wanted it to end for me, cleanly, and with no regrets." Cameron grasped
the priest's sleeve, leaving a bloody handprint there, "Father, you're a
strong man. Stronger than I was. Never lose faith in yourself, do you
understand?"
"I understand, Cameron,"
Damien said meekly. And then Cameron Reol closed his eyes once more, never to
open them again. Damien bowed his head over the warrior, his heart too filled
with loss to find any words. Gathering himself, he placed Cameron's hands over
his breast and muttered the Prayer of Passing.
"In the name of the One God I
bid you peace and love everlasting in the next life. May your maker be fair in
his judgment and all that is known of you be laid bare so that you cross the
threshold in innocence as you entered this world. Peace be with thee,
Amen."
Standing, legs trembling from a
weight that pained his chest, Damien turned away from the warrior and stepped
through the gear room where Kirstin and Verion were waiting for him. Kirstin wept
bitterly when Damien told her. Verion bowed his head to the floor, speaking
lowly of the sun's shadow, asking it to be gentle to him. Then the priest
prodded them on. Cameron was right. He needed that answer from the elder, now
more than ever before. Finding a steep and long looking iron ringed ladder at
the opposite end of the great wall, they began to climb down to the floor of
the plains. The wind stilled when they emerged from the gates that surrounded
the ladder's bottom, the wind mourning along with the centiant.
Verion called out and found
Kirstin's horse. The skittish animal came galloping back; fear strong in its
eyes. The priest's horse was nowhere to be seen. Damien mounted the steed along
with Kirstin and they galloped south, Verion leading the way. Dark fell, and
with it came bitter cold. They spent the night on the open plains in silence,
each harboring their own thoughts. Before the sun had fully risen across the
plains they travelled again, pushing the horse hard in their attempt to reach
the village of the Casaama. A patrol of ageless joined them at the villages
outer boundaries, running with their long legs as fast as the horse could
gallop. They neared the cliffs where the village rested and Damien squinted his
eyes when he noticed black forms in the sunlight at the peak of the cliffs
above the village. The glint of steel beamed in the dawning sun and the priest
recognized them for what they were.
Avalon soldiers raised a powerful
war cry and galloped along the banks of the village, banners flowing in the
frozen wind even as sword and shield were being brandished for battle. The
ageless gathered weapons, and before the lot of them reached the first of the
houses bloody battle raged on every wooden walk, through every open window.
Ageless and drudic slew humans. Human soldiers slaughtered the ageless. Over
the din of battle Damien screamed at them to halt, but none responded. The
priest leapt off of Kirstin's horse and raised his hands, begging both sides to
cease their butchery. The soldiers ignored him. The ageless looked upon him
with something akin to remorse, but fought with a savagery that belied their
gentle appearance. He could see Ferrin, the gangly youth fighting alongside
Styrie as the pair held the entrance to the old drudic's home.
"For the love of the One, stop
this!" Damien screeched. Verion stepped in the way of the priest and
picked up one of the soldiers, hurling him back into the wall of one of the
houses, then through it. Kirstin brandished her sword at a pair of Avalon
soldiers that were teaming up on a young drudic warrior. One of the men fell
back to attack, locking swords with her as she skirted him, trying to make her
way to the young man fending off the other soldier's blows. The priest gazed
one way and the next. Chaos ruled, all of the warriors oblivious to everything
around them except the struggles they were embroiled in. The smell of spilt
blood and the pathetic cries of the wounded made Damien's stomach lurch. He had
to put an end to this. It was an atrocity to the eyes of the One.
Grabbing soul blazer with one hand
and the scabbard with the other, Damien pulled the blade free and held it high
over his head. The majestic blue glinted brilliantly in the light of the sun,
making it look like a shard of the ocean in his hand. Damien shook the blade,
barely able to contain the rage he felt inside him. Still no one stopped
fighting.
"Look upon this!" Damien
screamed at the top of his lungs, "Look upon the holy sword, the bane of
all magi named soul blazer!" The instant he spoke the name of the sword
aloud an immediate reaction took place. A dazzling field of crackling energy
radiated from the exposed blade, flowing outward in a globe of deep blue that
enveloped the priest, obscuring him from vision for several seconds. The blue
globe of throbbing light stood better than twenty feet in any given direction
with Damien at its center. At first the priest was blinded by the incredible
power that the sword released, holding his arm over his eyes and holding the
sword away from him. When he dared to look again the sound of battle fell away,
each man, human or ageless, lowering their weapons and staring slack jawed at
the dome of blue that encompassed the priest.
Finding his voice, Damien called out
to the masses standing motionless around him. "I hold soul blazer here! By
this righteous blade I call on you to stop this fighting! Your war is false! I
know not the true history of the ageless, but I do know that whatever might
have occurred three centuries ago cannot account for the killing that I find
myself surrounded by! In the name of the One, throw down your weapons and
listen to the truth, if the gedra would tell us what that is! Please, I implore
you, cease this fighting now!"
Damien gauged the reactions of the
men around him. None seemed to move from where they stood, cemented where they
stopped fighting like they had become statues. Then came the clatter of steel
falling upon stone. Soldiers let go of the blades they carried, and the ageless
were fast to follow, clubs and spears falling from limp fingers. Avalon
soldiers bended knee to him, lowering heads and removing helmets, holding them
in their arms as they cast the priest looks of awe and admiration. The ageless
clasped their hands together, lowering to their knees and craning their necks
forward, white hair falling over their faces. Kirstin turned back to face
Damien, sword still in her hand, her face a mask of confusion. Ferrin dropped
down beside her, crouching low in the snow and sheathing his pair of daggers
with a fluid motion.
"Hail, warrior!" The
Avalon soldiers called out one after the other. Mailed hands rose over their
heads, the banner of the soaring eagle raised for all to see, "Hail the
one that has freed the soul blazer! Hail!"
"At last," the elder of
the ageless spoke in his deep baritone, "At long last our deliverer has
come to us." The ageless stepped from the large hall at the base of the
village, "You have earned the right to hear our history, Damien Alohm,
priest of the One God."
"A priest?" came human
voices from the walks about the village. Soldiers stared at the man with the
blazing blue sword in hand, then at each other, searching for what they should
do next.
Damien sheathed soul blazer and the
glow vanished instantly, being pulled into the scabbard when the blade was
safely away. Men blinked, adjusting their eyes, standing to get a better look
at Damien.
"You who bowed knee to me when
you mistook me for a great warrior, listen well! I am Damien Alohm, a priest
and servant to the One! I would ask only one thing of you all who follow the
Eagle! Listen to this man's tale! Listen and learn! Decide if this war is as
just as you thought when you first entered the ageless's land!"
"Speak then, old one," one
of the soldiers called out, "What do you have to say to us?"
The elder cast his gaze about village
and all of the men that waited, some already searching for where they had
discarded their weapons. Sighing, the elder cleared his throat and stood beside
Damien. The priest looked like a small child beside the albino giant.
"My tale begins three hundred
years ago, when the Magi Slayer Wars was approaching its end. Bryan Stormfyre
had cast himself into seclusion, beseeching the One for a power to defeat the
saevant. While he was away his soldiers were suffering heavy losses. The
wizards summoned powerful magic from the devils of Hell to destroy Stormfyre's
armies. Mortal men, no matter how seasoned or well trained, could ever hope to
defeat the forces that were arrayed against them. The saevant had joined forces
for the sole purpose of gathering more power for their dark masters. Each death
amassed more power for them. The gedra were servants of the One then. We walked
in His light like our cousins, the centiant, walked with the earth."
"You were priests of the One
God?" Damien asked.
"We were children of the One
God. I was very young then, and the elders of the gedra prayed to the One for
guidance. The saevant had to be stopped. As the chosen disciples of the One, we
took it upon ourselves to divine a means when the One offered us no solution.
We did not know that the future High King was being delivered our freedom in
the form of soul blazer. We bartered our souls to the devils below, bargaining
with them. The elders promised each of the gedra to one of the saevant, a bond,
so to speak. The dark ones accepted our pact, bonding each one of us to a
saevant. For each of us that is born to the world, so too is one of the dark
race. We housed their souls in our bodies, rendering their powers useless
against us. In the end we forced many of the saevant into seclusion,
threatening suicide if they did not cease their war. Many of my people fell in
that last terrible year, dying as the saevant were killed by the army of
Dynasty. In the end our bodies were corrupted by the taint the saevant left
within us. Our flesh turned the color of snow and our hair as well. No longer
were we able to heal by touch, like our ancestors were capable of doing. When
the war had finished and the saevant's number was thinned, our elders
approached Bryan Stormfyre, seeking a cure for the malady that we had brought
upon ourselves. The High King in all of his wisdom could give us no respite
from our curse. He took pity upon us, proclaiming the land north of the Canvese
Mountains as the land of the ageless."
"Why did the gedra become known
as the ageless?" Kirstin questioned, spellbound by the tale that the elder
wove.
"Ah yes. It is because the
saevant have the power to slow their age with the dark power they wield, or halt
it altogether. Because of this some of my people will never die from old age.
They will live until that saevant is slain in battle or we ourselves are. This
is the burden that we have carried for three centuries." The elder turned
a face filled with boundless sorrow to Damien. Styrie moved near him, as if the
younger ageless meant to protect the elder. The old ageless waved him away.
"Now you know our history,
priest of the One God. You know that the One has abandoned us in our need
because of our sins. In truth, I cannot blame him."
"That's nonsense!" Damien
barked back, incensed by the elder's self pitying tone, "The One would
never abandon his children! He would take back the devils of Hell if they
humbled themselves to ask him to! You are not lost, old one. You merely need to
find your way back to the light."
"What would you have us do,
father?" a soldier called out from a walk nearly above Damien's head,
"Do you believe the words of the ageless?"
"I believe, soldier, because
that sorrow has the ring of truth to it. This four decade war against the
ageless is based upon the fact that they took on the evils of the saevant! The
Eagle kills those who would be his ally in a time of crisis!"
"What does that mean,
priest?" another soldier called out.
"I have heard that Dagoth has
recruited an army so immense that it might topple even the Eagle's great might,
especially when so many of you are north, fighting the ageless! They could be
at Avalon's gates in a matter of days! I propose this; cease this war and join
forces! We will rally together and march south to lend the Eagle the aid he
will need to overthrow the armies of Darius Steelbreeze!" Damien spun to
face the elder and Styrie, as well as a smattering of other ageless warriors
that hung on his words. "Hear me, gedra! It is time to stop hiding in this
frigid waste! Redeem yourselves in the eyes of the One and find your way back
to him! This is the first step on the path to redemption! Tell me you have the
courage to take it, and travel with me to Avalon!"
There was stock silence. The ageless
were motionless, faces blank as the snow that surrounded them. The Avalon
soldiers looked doubtfully at each other. Verion cast Damien a dubious look as
Kirstin and Ferrin stepped closer to him. Then the first of the ageless, a
young looking giant that hadn't quite achieved his full height, bent knee
toward him.
"I will follow you, priest of
the One God! You are a good and virtuous man!" His voice rumbled and
echoed through the cliffs about them.
"We agree, Damien Alohm!"
shouted a gathering of soldiers near the north of the village, "Where you
go so shall we!" Damien wasn't sure who began the chant again, but it rose
from a few scant voices to a deafening roar that made Ferrin throw his hands
over his ears. Over and again he could them chanting. The elder shook his head,
shaggy hair falling over his brow.
"Hail!" the voices sang in
unison, "Hail, hail, hail!"
It was a long time before the
chanting stopped, and an even longer time before the priest's heart stopped
thundering in his ears.
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