Fiction logo

The Adventures of Niall Cadfael MacLir

Second Part

By Jeremy CavenaghPublished 3 years ago 64 min read
Like
The Adventures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
Photo by Gioele Fazzeri on Unsplash

The man walked down the road and a dust devil danced around him, occasionally plucking at the sleeves, or corners, as if trying to get the cloak to dance with it. The road continued down until it ended in an intersection, in one direction it ran almost forever across the bald prairie, in the other direction it ended in a copse of trees. The outermost trees appeared dry and covered in dust, but within the shade they grew lustrously with vines stringing upward towards the sky. It was down the wooded path the man turned, and deep within, and off the path a ways he found an old oak tree, and there he made his camp.

He cleared the detritus, and started a fire, pulling from the pockets of his cloak his canteen and a pot he started a pot of coffee upon the fire. Then leaning against an old root, he put his head down, pushed his old, worn out hat over his eyes, and proceeded to go to sleep. In the depths of his sleep his mind wandered, and faces danced before him, and past people he had known. He had been aware that coming to this place might evoke some of the old memories, indeed this particular oak had been a favorite haunt in his childhood. After a decade without a visit, he returned to his old home town, and was not even noticed. He had wanted to go to the house of his father first, but his wife had convinced him to make camp in the forest.

“There is a county ordinance against campfires”, a man’s deep voice rumbled into his jumbled dreams. Opening his eyes, he pushed up his hat a little, and gazed into the face of his own father.

“Yes sir, I heard some tell of such a thing, but I never paid it no mind. The coffees hot, help yourself to a cup”, the man replied.

“I must demand you put it out, I am the county appointed fire marshal…”

“That is why we are here, in the middle of last winter the county banned all fires, even the ones in the homes, in fact the only fires are allowed at the council seat, but if you want to put this fire out, be my guest, I will just start it up again when you leave, old man”, he told him.

“It is that same law”, the man continued,” that led to your own wife’s death, in the beginning of the year, I cannot tell you how sad I was when I heard that you were the one instituting the ban on fires here abouts, years ago you would never have been so willing to do the work of the priests… what happened”, I asked.

“You lay there, and condemn me, yet you are a stranger here, you know nothing about life here”, the older man said his temper beginning to rise.

Before the elderly man could continue the younger man told him, ”I know perfectly well what it takes to live in this land, that is part of the reason I left so many years ago, I was born in an inn not far from here, but I did not stop there on the way in, my wife advised against it, she said that you were priest ridden, that the priests now control every last thing anyone does here, I wanted for her to be wrong, unfortunately I see she was not. Even you are under their thumb, and they are the ones ultimately responsible for your wife’s death from the cold”.

There was evening, and then there was morning, and I stepped out to see the new dawn, the sun rose victorious over the long night. The sky was a slashed red, and oranges, and the treetops were all ablaze in the early morning light, only a few birds were already awake, singing out their morning songs, chirping in cheerfulness, greeting the new day. I stretched out my arms, and shook the sleep from my limbs, and looked about the grounds of the school. Where I had inadvertently wandered the day before, the quarters of Becka, there she stood performing what to me looked much like a dance, as the dawn light caught her hair it exploded in the same type of fire I had been dreaming of all night, and I once again felt a tightening in my groin. I could say for certain I lusted for her, but I was not so certain about being in love with her.

I considered all I had learned the day before, and it occurred to me that perhaps there were questions that I had failed to ask, but then I was not all that certain that I truly wanted to know the answers. The fact that Magery was once considered to be one of the sciences, and the fact that the priesthood was riddled with a heresy that had never been rooted out had shaken my world to its foundations. Many of my questions revolved around a certain young girl, the same one whom I had developed a large infatuation towards. The day was already pregnant with promise, and as I was a young man, and not very wise I decided to start it the best way I could.

I stood staring transfixed, as Becka danced her morning routine, and called the dawn, it was the first time I had seen her out of her voluminous robes, and she cut quite a striking figure. her breasts, beneath her modest blouse, stood out like twin hills bathed in the light of the morning. Her hair flowed like a river cascading from the mountains, pouring over her shoulders, and dancing playfully along the sides of her body. For the first time, in the very short time, I had known her, she was wearing a smile, it spread out so wide it reached her eyes, and made her all the more beauteous. My heart sang with an unknown melody as I watched her.

"You can breathe now", a voice said behind me. I had not even realised that I had been holding my breath, but when Becka spoke I took a deep shuddering breath, and wondered how she had moved so rapidly without my noticing.

"For a guy who defeated a basilisk you sure are unobservant, if I had been intending to kill you..."

"According to the old geezer who invited me here, if you had been intending to kill me, you could not. Apparently we are fated to be wed, and live in connubial bliss, if I understood him correctly, and killing me now would go against the will of the Creator, or the fates, or something like that", I replied.

Her response was another I had not been expecting, she leaned forward, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled me forward into a kiss. As her lips crushed against mine all power of thought rushed from my head.

Her tongue pushed past my teeth, and a whole new sensation exploded in my mouth, she tasted tangy, with a breath of minty fire. As we locked in a passionate embrace her hair burst into brilliant flames, and wrapped about me. I felt her bosom pressing up against my chest, and I was hit by a sense of deja vu. I do not know how far we might have gone, for both of us were immolated by the passion, our self will lost, but out of the blue freezing water poured all over us. At first I did not notice, but after the first few buckets the chill started to leak through the raging hormones.

"You ought to know better than that Becka, the conflagration nearly ignited half the campus. Your power of flames was completely out of control, and a half dozen adepts were put in the infirmary when you went supernova, you two are fortunate nobody was killed", the old man was back.

We were both too out of breath, and out of mind with passion to even think clearly, I felt a magnetism drawing me back to her, like iron to a lodestone I was being drawn, and I was no longer certain that that was against my will. As I gazed into her eyes I saw the same savage attraction, and realised she was having as much difficulty staying apart from me. My heart was pounding as if I had just run a league race. I reached out and grasped her hand, and I felt her heart racing away with her too, this was a mutual bonding. The old man was watching the two of us with a wry smile tucked away in the crevices of his face, he was actually enjoying the moment, perhaps even recalling when he was young and felt passions deep embrace.

"Niall, you and Becka are too dangerous to leave alone, while you two slept the council did research, it was the tolling of the bells that roused us from the library, the bells that spoke of wildfire. It was spectacular, not a thing seen more than once in a life time, and it confirmed our worst fears. Each human is, by nature, holding an affinity to one of the first five elements. Earth, Air, Water, Fire, Life. Becka is Fire, and you, Niall, are Air. It was this affinity that caused you to be able to defeat the basilisk, and the wizard. It was this affinity that stirs up the flame in Becka, and ignites it to levels never before reached by a single wizard. Separate you are weak, together you are a power beyond all reckoning. Much as I love you Becka, and I do love you, granddaughter, I see no other option but to send you and Niall away from here as soon as possible. We will not abandon the two of you to the wide world, we have in mind work for the two of you to do, and maybe in doing you will find the means of controlling what havoc you wreak."

"You two will be wed by evening, and by tonight we will have a special room made up for the two of you. One where you will cause less damage in your passion. This room will be yours in perpetuity, the walls spelled by our greatest water wizards, the stones were mined by the dwarves from living rock, it should house the two of you quite comfortably. I tell you this to let you know that you always have a place here, no matter what this will always be your home. I will tell you where to go on the morrow, for there is ever trouble that needs our special help. But, between now and the wedding you two must be separate, for your nuptial chambers are not yet ready. The last time those rooms had occupants was half a millennia past when my ancestor, who was a fire wizard, resided there."

I looked at Becka with a sigh, and acknowledged the old wizard had a point, looking about I could see scoring on the walls, and char where the curtains used to be, in fact it appeared as if the walls had even begun to melt, so volatile was the kiss. the only place not showing marks of fire damage was right where we had been standing. As I helplessly clutched at her hand, her fingers wrapped in a tight embrace of mine, the old wizard took me by the shoulders and began to gently pull us apart. I wanted to resist, and I could see that she did too, but the knowledge that within a few hours we would once again be together we were able to gather the strength to part.

The hours dragged by, each seeming longer than the last, as I sat and endured rounds of poking, prodding, and questioning by the council of mages, it seemed I was an unknown factor, something that caused magic to either function very well, or not at all. The last is why I was able to ride a basilisk, which reminded me that I needed to make notes in my bestiary, noting that basilisks might turn into a horse, be very, very wary of horses.

The old wizard finally decided that the time was opportune, perhaps the fates decided for him, and that now I should have a bath. At home we bathed in a river, or a lake, and it was more swimming, or sporting, than bathing, so when I was shown the modern convenience I marvelled. I saw the steam coming off the water, and felt its heat radiating in the air, it was then I understood Becka's comment about being unwashed. I removed my clothing, and laid them on a bench, then I stepped into the water. Warm water rushing about my toes was a new sensation, the closest I had been to warm water previously was in the cooking pot, and this was nothing short of miraculous. As I moved deeper into the heated water I felt the dust, and sweat that caked my body washing off. I sank into the water, letting the water whisper over my head, my hair flowed in the currents, and for the first time in many days I began to feel clean. I might have stayed there alternately swimming, and laying in the water indefinitely if the old wizard had not come back with fresh, clean clothes for me to wear.

Hours later the sun was declining beneath the horizon, the moon in all her glory shone radiantly upon the festivities below. The entire school was bedecked in garlands of flowers I had never seen before, let alone heard described, they seemed to float on the breezes that played there. All the students were garbed richly in flowing robes, that seemed to shimmer iridescently in the pale moon light, in their hands was a lit candle, not a small hour candle, but the large 12 hour candles, the light of their flames shining forth upon my path to the altar. Upon the dais, in front of the altar stood the priest, the old wizard, and Becka, and one look at my future wife and all thought fled my mind. She was in a lustrous, silky white gown, that seemed to float upon the song the adepts were singing. Her beauty caught my breath and held it captive, and my heart wrapped itself around hers, if I had not been guided by one of the council I might have stopped and stared. I was lost in the transcendental beauty that was my bride to be, and I saw in her eyes the building flames of passion.

I stepped up to the altar, never once looking away from Becka, and I seemed to hear far away trumpets, and music, then the priest began to speak, "We are gathered here today to unite two, and create one, so it was at the beginning, so we imitate now. This young woman, and this young man are bound by a love that transcends the mortal bonds that we place upon them, and it is a love that was willed so by the Creator. The Creator in his loving kindness has brought these two together for His own purposes, and we may never know what those are, but we know that this was a love decreed upon the stars themselves, indeed upon the very foundation of this world.”

"This is a love that knows no boundaries, that would shake the world apart were it to be denied, and so we in humble obedience unite this man, and this woman to be one flesh, for all time. Niall Cadfael MacLir, do you take this woman, to be your wife, to hold her when she grieves, to comfort her when none else can, to love her with all your body, mind and soul, and do you do this knowing that she is a mage, and as such you may be excommunicated from Mother church", the priest asked.

"With all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul, with all that I am, and ever hope to be I take this woman to be my wife, from today, until eternity ends", I replied, maybe just exaggerating a little on the age old vows.

"Do you Rebeckah Udia Kenna take this man to be your lawful husband, for all time, forsaking all possibility of other loves, to hold him when none else will, love him with all your heart, all your mind, and all your soul, to honor and give him honor as best you can for all time," the priest asked her. For the first time since I met her I had heard her full name, and it was lovely like a song that lilts upon the mid-evening breeze.

"Not only do I take him as such, I take him until time shall be no more, and eternity is burned away in flames, this is the one love decreed by the Creator, and who would I be to deny the Creator", she replied.

"Then with the authority granted unto me by Holy Mother Church, and vested in me by the Creator, I declare you to be husband and wife. I expect much from the two of you, and much will be demanded, but from now until the day of my death I adjoin myself as your priest, though Holy Mother Church may excommunicate me. Go forth as Husband and wife, and serve as one the Creator, for as you were two when you entered here this evening, now you are one body, and as one you shall depart".

I took Becka's hand, and as I did the old wizard, now my grandfather in law, wrapped a cloth around our united hands, there must have been some wizardry at play because I began to lose all sensation of where I ended and she began, I could feel her heart beating, in my chest, every breath she took it felt as if it were mine. In fact every rush of emotions that bounced through her like children at play seemed to bounce through me as well. We were well and truly one, and I knew she could feel my stimulation, and rising passion, and I was not embarrassed.

The feast afterward seemed to drag on for several eternities, my heart leaping every time I saw Becka, and every mouthful of that sumptuous feast, every glass of the excellent wine, or soothing mead seemed to be an obstacle, I wanted it to be over so I could wrap myself in the embrace of my wife, and let my burning flames of passion surf the crest of her passion. It was all I could think of, and through our bond, I could sense that she felt the same. At some point in the evening the old wizard stood and announced, "the feast will go on, but the guests of honor must now be excluded, they are weary, and must rest".

An adept came and guided us to our nuptial chamber, then left hastily, almost stumbling in his rush to get back to the feast. What goes on between a man and his new bride on their wedding night is not something one discusses in polite company, but I will say this that it is a good thing that the mages had specially prepared this room, for in the white hot inferno of our love, our lust, and our passion even the dust beneath the bed was vaporized. the walls had been bespelled to be as strong as they could possibly be made, but even the yard thick walls glowed white hot from the intense release within the room.

We stayed until very late the next morning engaged in each others embrace, we were finally roused by a hammering on the door, well, where the door was supposed to be. The stone in the walls had fused with the iron in the door, and there was left a solid fusion of gemstone, Tourmaline fading into Garnet, and Emerald, and even the Granite had turned into something I could not name. The colors flowed like a myriad of rainbows, dancing, and twirling upon the melted smooth surface of the walls, the floor it seemed had become Bloodstone. The intense heat had done more than just change the stone, it had left us naked, exposed to the world, and each other, for our wedding clothes had been charred to ash, and the ash into vapor, even the bed was missing, vaporized in the heat of our passion.

This was the first time I had seen my wife without clothes, and the first time she had seen me similarly exposed, and the temperature in the room started rising. I took my wife in my arms, embracing her, kissing her, and told her that I loved her. It was an amazing sensation, with our passions momentarily sated, we seemed to meld into one another, where I ended and she began became an unknown quantity, we seemed to dissolve into one physical being. Our bodies fit together as if they were cast from the same mold, and then the flames wrapped about us, blanketing our bodies as if it were a garment. Yet even then our passion did not give way to the same type of unbridled loving as we had had the night before, no it was a joining both physical and spiritual, and in one voice we began to laugh in the wonder, and awe of the moment.

Eventually the stone mages burst through the wall, leaving rough gems spinning on the floor, and through the air, then they worked a united, and powerful magic rewriting the surface of reality, causing the door to form from the begemmed mess. Almost immediately the rough edges were cut, or smoothed, and from the hole became a portal with a gate of solid gemstones. Such a door as none had ever seen before. In the future it would become a place that young mages were brought to see the consequences of uncontrolled power, the beauty of it, and the danger also.

Seeing that we were garbed in nothing but dancing flame the mages sent for garments, and we were soon bedecked in our old clothes, from before the wedding. We stepped forth into the ravaged halls for the first time as one body, and we saw the effects of our passion. The stone was cracked, broken, even melted in places for a good hundred yards in every direction, all tapestries, and other hanging decorations had turned into ash from the horrible heat. Where once had stood a statue of solid gold there was now a solid pool where it had melted, and bubbles solidified for it had boiled after melting. The halls were blackened, and charred for another hundred yards beyond the actual devastation, the few plants had become as candles and burnt away during the night, the soil from their pots turning into lava, and we had an idea of how powerful we were together. 'A force to be reckoned with' was how the Council had put it, before our wedding ceremony.

I was dressed in my old clothes, they had somehow been cleaned, and actually looked new, the worn spots were no longer worn, the holes that were were no more. My boots had actually been replaced, they had been ready to fall to pieces, and being chased by a basilisk, then riding it had put more strain on them than they had been designed for. My new boots were formed of some type of leather, they felt strong, durable, and comfortable, as if they had been built for my feet alone. My pack had been repaired, and my flasks had been redesigned they sparkled with silver, gold, and precious gems, and inscribed on each was something in an alphabet I did not recognise. I had come without a hat, and yet in my new clothes was a hat, with a wide brim for shade from the sun, and yet there was something about this hat that told me it was more than just a hat.

My new Grandfather in law told me that my clothes had been remade, and the additions were all part of a wedding gift to us, after all it would not do to send me off looking like a refugee from refuse heap. I looked in my pack and there were my things, but the old bestiary was replaced by one I was told to be much more reliable. My soldiers Guide to survival was looking just as new as when I had received it many years ago from the old soldier that trained me. There were two other books in the pack, one was a journal, with writing implements attached, the other was a book detailing the actual history of the world before and after the great schism. I think it might have been actually written just for me, but I could never tell. I thanked the old man profusely.

"Many years ago Becka entered here, and began her studies as a mage, she, it turned out had the potential to be one of the greatest in years, and we saw the potential in her from the start. Unfortunately, a short time after she came here both her parents were butchered by witch hunters from the Church, and that caused an emotional block, that she carried right up until recently. Niall, she is a great and powerful mage, but she is also a weak vulnerable child, and you are better warned. My beloved grandchild seems to have lost her blockage since she met you, but without you she cannot control her powers, you are her grounding, you are her direction, you must stand with her, but you must also direct her, for without you she would run rampant over these lands, laying all in waste, in the end her own power would consume her.”

"I know I am long winded, my boy, but these are the things you need to know. The clothes are now proof against flame, and against the other elements, the journal is more than just a journal, however, if you Write in it using a special ink you have been provided we will be able to see what you write, and reply. Use it sparingly, and only in times of need, the ink is difficult to make, and the ingredients are rare, thus the ink is more valuable than both your flasks combined. Your flasks have been remade, and the metal workers got a little carried away, but in either the contents will remain fresh long past the time they should have turned was it an ordinary flask.”

"Now lad the council has decided on a task for the two of you, I cannot say how you will accomplish it, or how long it will take, but it is needful. Far away, in the mountains to the north, there was a quiet vale, it had never seen any real trouble, even the wars that raged across the land from time to time had passed it by, then a trouble came. A demon, it is called, came, and made the vale its roost, and the folk who lived there are now its slaves. The problem for them is, it seems, the slavery lasts after their death, you and Becka must go and rid the vale of this "demon", when you have done that we will have another task for you".

We were given a map, supplies, and horses, Blacky the former basilisk was kept so the mages could study it, so I was given another a mare, and riding her was like riding a breeze. She could walk, trot, or gallop, and I felt as if I was in a dream, and the leagues seemed to fly by. I guess horses that were actually bred to be ridden were easier rides than horses that spent most of their life as a basilisk. As night fell we made camp in a small camp ground off the side of the road, it was unoccupied, but showed evidence of having been used recently, which in and of itself was rather unusual. We prepared our camp, and lit a small fire, and were preparing to settle down for the evening when two men stepped from out of the shadows.

"You will give us your valuables, or you will die slowly", the taller of the two men said in a gravelly rasping voice. It was so funny, to me, I burst out laughing, it was like these two were actually trying to fulfill the stereotype of highwaymen. The smaller of the two slipped his arm around Becka, and put a knife to her throat.

"Obey, or the woman dies", the first idiot said.

"Listen, pal, you could not have chosen worse marks to rob, my wife is a mage of terrible power, and is as like as not to turn you into a frog as a pile of cinders, and I am certain if you do not leave now, begging her forgiveness you will be dead very soon", I replied.

Becka stiffened, as the little man poked his knife towards her throat, and burst into flame. The little man released her and ran screaming into the shadows, his screams died off in a horrible shrieking wail a few minutes later, as the unquenchable fire consumed him. All the time he was screaming the tall bandit stood stock still a small puddle of liquid forming around the base of his feet. His lip quivered, and he looked as if he was about to cry, I looked at Becka, then turned looking the man in the eye, and said, "GO".

The man fled.

We again settled down for the night, this time Becka cuddled into my arm, and the fury had ebbed replaced with tears, the strong terrible mage was gone, and the vulnerable child was here in her place. I held my wife as she sobbed, and felt her soften against me, it was the first time she had ever killed any living thing, and that was not a moment I wished to disturb. I was young, and not very wise, but I was learning discretion, so I remained silent, and held her close, as we both drifted off to sleep.

The morning came all too soon, and as I unwrapped my cloak from about us I heard the strangest noise, of someone working about the fire, I looked again and made certain I was not dreaming, that I actually still held my wife in my arms. The faint aroma of coffee, and roasting bacon caught my attention, and I arose. There puttering about the campfire, fixing a hearty breakfast was the priest. The same priest who had promised to be our own personal priest, the same as had performed our wedding the previous day. I know that as far as honeymoons go this was not very romantic, but a priest along was bound to put a damper on any romance that might have happened.

"You two youngsters didn’t think you would get off that easy, did you". the priest asked.

"You just arrived here, priest", I inquired.

"Naw, I got here last night, I tidied up the mess you two left over there, and laid myself down for some rest. Your poor wee lass was all tuckered out, it looked like, so I let ye rest. Come first light I awoke, and found time for my devotions, and when I returned I started breakfast", he replied.

"What are you doing here", I asked.

"The council never really intended for you two to go haring off into the wide world without anyone's help, so they sent me. I am after all your own personal priest, and I am supposed to be your Anamchara..."

"What is an Anamchara", I asked.

"An Anamchara is a soul friend, the state of your soul is my personal responsibility, I am your advisor, your confessor, your teacher, but over all of that I am your one constant companion. When I say you, I include of course Becka also. You are one flesh, one body, and occasionally of one mind also, and to be your Anamchara I must also be hers, for you are one. I know you know what I am talking about, I saw your face at the wedding, and I knew the two of ye could feel each other particularly strongly”.

After this we would spend many more days on the trail together without meeting another person, at the end of the first days ride, after we had eaten the priest decided it was time for me to start receiving my education. “Niall, why do you think the council sent me along with you, did you think it was just to keep an eye on you? Seeing your look of blankness I will tell you, it is like this… Part of the schism between the Church and the council is that the Church denies that the Creator, in the very act of Creation left magic here, and it was imbued in us. To a greater or lesser extent we all have a bit of magic about us, it is a gift of the Creator, and to deny it is like unto denying the existence of the Creator Himself. The Church will tell you that there is no such thing as magic, but the truth is they try to contain all users of it, outside certain areas witch hunters will track down and murder any who try to use it. This in and of itself verges on blasphemy.

“I would wager the Church has by now determined that healers are also heretics, and as such must be dealt with most severely, the only healers I have ever met, who are true healers have been within the bounds of the school itself”.

I responded, “The Church is the great master, they tell us to give them our money, our crops, even our service, and in return they tell us how we are all condemned to the pits of ice fire for all eternity. We are offered no hope of salvation, no grace, nothing to expiate our sins, only guilt, and condemnation. Indeed even the priests have tried to prevent, or discourage all from even learning to read, their Holy book being in a tongue ancient, and understood by most, reading therefore is irrelevant to studying their scriptures. In my short life I never encountered healers, if there were many people who have passed from this life might never have, and would have led longer lives. In my village people die of even the most minor things, I had a friend who took a splinter in his finger, after a few days his finger swelled, red lines streaked up his hand into his arm, then within a week it started turning black, under a month after getting the splinter he died, in agony, as the blood inside him rotted. SO if there are healers, and the church has suppressed them then they have much to answer for”.

“I am sorry to hear about your friend, and I tell you now, it was not necessary for him to die, the local priest has much accounting for this crime. I told you everybody has a bit of the magic left by the Creator, and few learn how to use it, most have little control, in fact many of the adepts you met will never learn enough mastery to become a mage. The fact that you are with Becka, that you balance her out, and give her the ability to focus, is the only reason she has received the status of being a mage.

“Let me now explain to you what the Church should have, in the beginning there was nothing, then the Creator formed the world, the creatures here sprang from out of the dust, and life breathed in their lungs. Then the Creator took some mud, and fashioned the first man, into his mouth, and into his nose the Creator personally breathed life, and man started to become. In his becoming, the Creator fashioned a woman for him out of his side, and the two should have lived happily ever after. They should have but they did not, for a great deception was cast upon them by a wizard whose heart had been twisted by pride, and they strayed from the path the Creator had designed especially for them.

“Many years passed, and over a thousand years ago the Creator fashioned a simulacrum of Himself and sent it to this world, to live among the people, to teach the use of the magic, and to offer salvation from hopelessness. The people took this being, and murdered it, and thus was the beginning of the Hanged God. If what I understand is correct, the Church left this Hanged God hanging. The truth that they seem to have left out is this, that after being well and truly dead, the Creator did something wonderful, he released a breath of life, and the being came back to life. If it were you, or I we might have sought revenge for our murder, but this one did not, it continued for some time teaching a message of forgiveness.

“The magic left by the Creator had completely absorbed the man, and in His dying, and in his coming back to life he defeated Hel, and he defeated the terrible deceiving wizard, and all its minions. He offered us a gift. Now you know as well as I do no gift comes without attachments, and for this gift there is also an attachment, and it is this… Believe in the Hanged God, that he died and relieved us of our burden of sins, and trust that He will guide your path, and serve the cause of Life, and the gift of going to another life, after this one is yours.

“According to what the True Church teaches, it is not rebirth in this world, it is not rebirth at all, at all, it is a moving of your spirit, when you die, to a place that is the opposite of the Hel your parish priests have condemned you all to”.

"You preach a good sermon, priest, but I have heard sermons before, what is more I can tell you actually believe this, which is more than I can say for the priests I have heard before. I am not certain I believe in this loving Creator of yours", I told him.

"It matters not if you believe in a loving Creator, that is because the Creator believes in you, if it were not so none of what has happened to you would have been able to happen. You are well named, for as your name is The Champion, so your character proves it, but I can tell you more than that, I can tell you that the Creator put you on this very path you travel, and He must have something very special in store for you".

"Now you sound like my mother, priest, she was always harping on about destiny, and fates, and if I were to believe everything she told me then I could not believe I had any choice in the matter, that all is as it would be, for that is the only way it could be", I responded.

"Listen, my boy, Your mother was only parroting the heresy her priests had taught her. There is a fact that somethings are destined, and no matter what we do we will always end up achieving that which was written before time, like your marriage, and your love of Rebecka, but other things you have a choice in. You are off to deal with a "demon", but how you get there is your choice, what you do when you get there is your choice, you could even join forces with it, and that would be your choice, and the Creator would not prevent that, but He would likely send another Champion to defeat this creature".

"This is a lot, priest, for me to think on, and we have a long way to go, you may yet convince me, but let me ask you a question. How is it that you hold such a strong belief in what could be no more than just another tale of the bards ramblings?"

"Lad, when I was just a lad as you are, I was sent, by my family to learn to be a priest. I learnt to read, and write, I learnt my numbers, and a goodly many other things. I was curious, and wanted to learn everything, indeed I drove my teachers to distraction with my questions, eventually one of them took me to the library, wherein I read all there was to read of the modern books, and so I went in search of more, for the library was large, and it contained copious quantities of ancient documents. I spent many days studying the ancient texts, and when I emerged I was a different man. Deep within the archives there was records of what the Hanged God had taught, records in the hand of some of His own followers, and I saw nothing there I recognised, so I read more, and more, and deep in the church histories I discovered when the heresy had crept in, and it met the definition of heresy that I was taught in the school for priests. SO being a bright boy I took the documentation to my teachers, and they refused to even consider it, let alone read it. You see they all knew about the heresy, and accepted it.

"The Church had been corrupted by power, and greed, and it had become accepted to the point where priests actively participated in preaching this heresy from their pulpits, even going so far as to rewrite the Holy Writ, for their own purposes. When my teachers refused to see what I discovered I showed a few of my classmates, and they were also horrified, but what could we do, we were not actually priests yet, so we bided our time and awaited the auspicious time, yet even after we became priests the time never seemed to arrive, and we were closely guarded by over priests. Eventually we broke free, and we have been in danger ever since. Two of my classmates have been burned as witches merely for trying to translate the original Holy Writ into the common tongue. A third has been in constant hiding since the other two were arrested, I presume he attempts to complete the work.

"When I read the Writ that was written in the hand of the Hanged Gods followers, I read further and found that over time many strange things happened to them, Immunity against pestilence, proof against drowning, even one is recorded by multiple witnesses as having walked through the flames untouched, and like you Niall, his affinity was Air. As I grew older I witnessed all types of strange occurrences that can only be explained by the hand of the Creator, far to the east there is a vast desert that stretches beyond imagination, it is a dry dusty place, and there is naught but sun, and sand, and bleached bones of the unfortunate, deep within, when all hope seems lost, there springs out of the bleak sands a veritable paradise, green trees, fountains of the deep spraying forth their life giving water. It is real and a metaphor at the same time, and I have noticed that the Creator often speaks in metaphor. It was in such a paradise I spent a year, whilst hiding from the Church Witch Hunters, and it was from a tree I watched as they marched past into the deep desert never noticing the place I was hidden, indeed they marched beneath me and never noticed the tree, nor the oasis, it was as if the Creator had covered me with His hand, and all was hidden from their sight.

"Now I ride with the two of you, on your mission, and I, in my way, will assist as I can. The two of you are a force beyond all reckoning, and it is my destiny to attempt to guide you, physically, for I am well travelled, and know many places, spiritually for I am your priest, and as a friend teach you things you ought to learn. While you are a highly intelligent lad, unlike your wife you have never had formal schooling, and some things you should have learned were missed. I have seen this in you, lad, that you have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but you also recognise that you are short on wisdom. Perhaps together we can work on a wise application of your knowledge. Your new family made certain I would come with you for these reasons, I came, however, for a reason of my own... A priest is no good unless he is working, doing his job, and my job is your instruction, and your guide, and I cannot do that using magic, I am a priest, not a mage."

For many days we rode, each evening the priest would instruct me, and my wife, and in doing so we were too tired, by the time we eventually slept, to do anything but sleep. One fine day we entered a mountain range, and the priest informed us there was a town within a few hours ride. He explained that it, perhaps, was the time to take some rest before we headed into an arduous trek through the mountains. While his invitation sounded good, both Becka and I wanted some time by ourselves, so we told him to meet us here in the morning, and get some rest himself. He rode off, taking a couple of horses with him to carry the supplies. We had camped in a rocky mountainside, that had a cave for shelter, so we made ourselves comfortable in the cave.

I must admit that with the ability we both had to sense what the other was feeling it had been getting very difficult to maintain composure. When the priest was safely away, and our valuables safely hidden, we released our pent up pressures. I was filled with an overwhelming desire for my bride, and within minutes we were locked in passions embrace, moments turned into minutes, and minutes into hours, and finally our building pressure had been alleviated, the lust, the love, the desire turned into a blinding flash of passion. Far off in the town the priest turned towards the mountains, as did every villager around, as the flames bathed the sky, and danced amongst the clouds, and he smiled.

Deep within our mounting passion had burned, and once released scoured the rocks about, melting the stones, infact where we made love that night an everlasting impression was made. Eventually mosses, and lichens, and other small plants would come to grow in those rocks once more, over a period of years, but the cavern where we had hidden ourselves was irrevocably changed. The rock had been reshaped by successive blasts of ardent desire, the place where on we rested molded to the shape of our bodies, in the coming years it would come to be known as a place where those trying to get a child could beget a child, no matter how many years they had been barren. I am not saying that the chamber exploded with life, but that it exuded a sensation, a left over miasma of our passion. The living stone had been rewritten and a tempestuous flow of striations whirled and danced within the crystalline stalactites, and stalagmites, the surface of the floor was like waves in a gentle stream, and it flowed out to the entrance of the cave, and into the rocks below.

Morning came, and my wife and I lay in loves embrace, the dawn danced over our skins, and the sunlight played in Becka's hair. I watched my beautiful wife sleep, and my heart was engorged with affection for her, and I knew come what may I would be ready as long as I had my wife at my side. A breeze danced across the cavern, cooling as it touched, and my wife began the process of awakening, her eyelids fluttered open like a butterfly upon that breeze, and she smiled. Her smile stole the breath from my lungs, and I felt the love she held bounding through my brain like a deer in a spring meadow. It is a wonderful thing this bond we share, a wonderful, awesome testimony to the Creators sense of humor, For just as I was sensing her she was sensing me, and the experience left us laughing in joy.

We rose, and went about our morning routine, awaiting the return of the priest and our supplies, breakfast was cooking when he returned, looking a bit bemused at the disheveled state of the land. The rocky entrance to the cave had smoothed into a river of flowing rock, that resembled nothing less than a sheet of ice, with waves gently rolling upon the surface. The sides of the river had little splashes of bright colored stones embedded in the banks, and jade stone plants forming in places, like ferns by a riverside. There had been no vegetation, nothing but barren rock, and now it was if some artist had been at work for a hundred years forming a vast composition of unparalleled beauty.

The town, it seemed, had been nothing remarkable, not even a priest of the church resided there, the people doing their own devotions without the hindrance of Mother Church. The locals had provided all our necessities, including a place for the priest to sleep for the night beneath a roof. There was word of strange happenings in the mountains, of mythical creatures roaming about, of a mountain whereon no man dared tread should he value his life. None of these things were near our destination, yet they were not far off of our course, so we decided it might be worth our investigating. The job of a mage in the world is never done, tracking dragyn, hippogryffs, even gargoyles came within her purview.

On our second day into the mountains, as we drew near to the lower pass, a horrible screeching filled the air, and it was all we could do to calm the horses. The priest was no mage, but he held some special power over the horses, for he hummed under his breath and the creatures stopped their prancing, and bucking, and calmed like they were in green fields. High above our heads was a swarm of large birds, swooping, diving, stooping, and gliding, their size was enormous, and they looked big enough to carry away a man. I rummaged through my pack and pulled out my bestiary, and started looking for a description of these horrendous creatures.

"Lad, now is not the time for reading, it is a time for action", the priest told me.

"Priest, there is always time to read, and this is a better book than some to be reading at a time like this... ah, here we go... these look like Rocs", I replied.

"If you say those are rocks, husband, I think perhaps we should get your eyesight examined soon", my wife butted in.

"Love, Rocs are a type of bird, according to this book they can lift cattle into the air, but generally leave people alone".

"Rocs are a creature of the high mountain passes, they hunt in the valleys, but like eagles they prefer the wild places, humans are their greatest threat, and greatest ally. There is recorded instances of wind wizards riding rocs, but they were more of a recording of a legend of a time long past. It is said that in some cases these creatures will hunt alongside certain primitive tribes, but here they usually leave people alone", the priest interjected, "Ride on and you have nothing to fear".

"I was not afraid, but if they were to attack they would meet my flames", my wife said, with a firmness that bordered on eagerness.

We travelled through roc territory without incident, listening their screaming overhead, I could understand why people did not travel this way very often, I also understood why there was such a short entry in my bestiary. Occasionally we would pass by a Roc feeding, once it was feeding upon a Dall sheep, it had raised hundreds of feet in the air, and dropped. I guess these birds liked their meat tenderised. Tenderised over a ten foot radius, and the horses, and us, as the creature dropped just a few feet from where we rode!

After a week we passed from the territory of the Rocs, and the air began to get heavier, and there was more vegetation, covering the rocks, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The birds might have left us alone this time, but that might just have been because the game was plenty for them, in a season of hardship we may have had to battle through the passes. I do not know what the others thought, but I considered them to be beauteous creatures, with wingspans greater than two men, with bodies like lions, they were a poetic image, I thought. I had yet to meet a Dragyn, or another mythical creature.

A days ride past the end of the pass we rode into a small town, it was unexpected, as there had been no sign of it until we were amongst houses. The houses were stone with tiled roofs, and pretty little gardens under the windows. If there was residents I never saw any outside. We rode straight through, never seeing an inhabitant, nor a store, never once stopping.

"Not the friendliest town, I have ever seen", said my beautiful wife, " but it d oes rank among the prettiest".

"I suspect the inhabitants are not used to travellers coming down the road from the pass, though I did not see a body , I felt eyes on me the entire way through", I suggested.

The priest remained silent as if he had not even noticed the town was deserted, it was not til much later that he commented. We were setting up camp for the night when he spoke.

"A year or two past I came through here, that village was the most welcoming of any I had ever stayed in, the people friendly, the food fantastic, and the lodgings were fit for an emperor. The town seemed deserted, but it ought not have been. Remember how I told you of my friend, the one working on translating the Holy Writ into the common tongue, this was the village wherein he was hiding. The Church should not have extended its reach so far, the mountains have always been a barrier to them. The Rocs frighten the priests beyond all measure, for it is in their books where it is written that Rocs and wizards play together. I saw no sign of residents, nor of my friend, and there should have been something, I fear this bodes ill".

That night we slept, but with the stillness of the forest it was hard to rest, not an owl screeched in the night, nor insect chirruped. Beside me my wife tossed and turned as if gripped by nightmares, and from where I lay the priest fared no better. Finally in the wee hours of the morning I arose, my wife and the priest had finally settled into a somewhat peaceful state of slumber, but the hackles at the back of my neck had never settled. So I arose, saddled my horse, and rode out into the night, I was not hunting anything in particular, I was merely searching for a cause to the unease we all felt. I sure enough found it.

I was young and not very wise, had I been wiser I would have taken my wife with me, but as it was I had to trust to my wits, as few as they may be. Deep in the forest, far from the path, and the light of the stars I found an old ruins, in the poor light that filtered down through the trees I could not tell what it may have been in years past, I do know that the sense of unease grew the closer to it I came, it grew so bad that my horse threw me off, and ran away. I approached the ruins and found myself in a clearing, there were standing stones casting drifting shadows upon the ground, and they appeared as if they had been pillars at one time. I could not see whether there was anything special upon the pillars, or if they were as ordinary as they seemed, it really did not matter.

The pillars seemed to form a circle, and within there was a shadow of a box, this may have been the shape it was, or it may have been the shape cast by the shadows, but it was as high as me, and as long. Appearances can be deceiving. I entered the shadow of the box, and found a door, or what appeared to be a door, with light drifting out under a small crack at the bottom. I knocked upon the door, and heard it echo deep within. A voice somewhere behind the door wailed in agony, chains rattled, and it seemed a distant wind was howling, all a bit much for a small box!

I found the door was open, as it slowly fell inward when I knocked, the room beyond was lit by candles, and in the center of the room sat a desk, it appeared to be a writing desk, the quills, parchments, and inkwells still where they had been left. I slowly entered, and looked at the writing on the parchments, written there were words in a language I did not know, so I left them, perhaps the priest would understand them, but he was not here. The screams seemed a little louder than previously but still distant. As I scanned the room, I saw a recess in the floor, and what appeared to be stairs going down, it was from here that the screams were coming.

Grabbing a candle I started down into the blackness, the shadows seemed to wrap themselves around me, and almost try to suffocate the flame, but light dispels darkness, and though the region about me was veiled in shadow, I was not left in the utter black. At the bottom of the stair was a hall, lined with walls of stone, leading to another chamber. Perhaps all about me there may have been doors, but I saw none, and shadows obscured the walls, anything that might have been there was hidden from my sight. At the entrance of the next room, I stood and gazed within, finding a most peculiar sight. There, within the center of a room was a man, a naked man, desperately trying to inscribe words upon his body. His skin was a mess of scratches, blood seeped out every time he pressed the quill to his skin, and the words already written glowed in some ethereal light. To be sure, I was not even certain he was truly there, for he sort of shimmered in the light cast by the writing.

He never seemed to notice me, so intent was he on scratching out the words upon his flesh, even when I stood in front of him and removed the quill he kept on trying to write, fingers empty. There was no light in his eyes, he could see nothing. He was not blind in the traditional sense, his eyes could see what he was writing, but only within the narrow confines of his living hallucination could he see. It was intriguing, and I could tell some part of him was feeling the pain of the scratches on his flesh, for he was moaning and screaming with the passage of words. I looked about the chamber and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but perhaps that is because I am no wizard, or simply because there was nothing there. Yet this poor creature was bound by some sort of compulsion to write.

The problem with finding a solution is that I had no idea as to what sort of mechanism I was looking for, for every problem, I was taught, there is a reasonable solution. I searched the surrounding area, and found nothing, but splatters of the poor man's blood, and dust almost a finger deep in the corners. Whomever was in charge of keeping this place was clearly not much of a housekeeper, in none of the corners did the dust appear to be even slightly disturbed, nothing could be hidden there, unless it was there from before the dust settled. The walls were blank stone no decoration lined upon them, the stone aged and cracking.

My candle finally began to shrink, and I decided there was nothing here for me to find, so I decided the mechanism must be elsewhere. Approaching the hall from the opposite direction the shadows leapt at me and tried to throw me back, and yet in all their horror they accomplished nothing. As shadows flee the light so these could make no headway against my candle, they threw themselves at me and assaulted from all directions but the light of the candle stayed firm, and they fell back defeated. As I went up the stairs the wailing increased, and the shadows swayed and danced, and fell away from the advancing light. The shadows tried one last ditch attempt to turn me back and obscured the top of the stairs and the entrance to the room, but in the end they fell apart in shards, and tumbled back to the room with the poor man and his unfinished writing.

Back in the room above, I went to the desk, and gathered the papers there, it was in my mind to return them to the priest, and Becka, perhaps one of them could read the writing. As I started to gather up the papers shadows once again attacked, and tried to shift the papers out of sight, even tried to knock them from my hands, it was so funny that I began to laugh. Shadows have only ever held the power over us that we give to them, and my laughter stopped them and they began to writhe upon the floor, as if my laughter actually hurt them. So I laughed even harder, and continued laughing as I left the building the papers in one hand, and an hour candle in the other. I found my way back in the dark, and never once was attacked by the shadows, yet I had the distinct feeling that something was following me.

As I approached our camp I found Becka, and the priest already up, and waiting my arrival, and they looked exhausted. The first grey of dawn had appeared, the birds should have begun their morning gossip by now, but even that was missing, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Becka, and the priest looked as if they had been awake for hours, yet I sensed a deep despair beginning to take hold of them, a depression that seemed to be affecting everything, for though the fire crackled it seemed as if even that was an effort. The horses looked as if they had been on a forced march for an entire week, even their manes were haggard. Becka’s hair was a dull black, and the priest looked as if he had not even gotten the energy to shave yet. Though my first thought was that they were awaiting my arrival, my second thought was that they had not yet noticed I had gone during the night.

The ever present sensation of my wife told me she was in a black depression, as if her spirit had lost all will to live, and for the first time I knew fear. We had not long been married, and already both she and the priest looked as if they were ready to die, and I knew something was dreadfully wrong. In the night the shadows had assailed me, and lost, but it appears here the shadows had come in their dreams, and found purchase in their subconscious.

"I found something in my travels, last night", I announced, "There was a house where shadows dwelt, deep in the woods, and in the midst of the shadows was a man, who had written his body as if it were a book".

The priest barely glanced my direction, and Becka seemed totally unaware I was in her presence. I did what any loving husband would do, I knelt in front of her, with my hand on her chin I lifted her head upward so I could look into her eyes, and I kissed her luscious lips. It was like kissing a log, there was the same type of reaction, her eyes had become a dull black, just like her hair. Looking straight into my eyes she did not even see me, the shadows lurked there, they had occluded her vision, it was like she was still asleep, as if somehow her eternal spark had been smothered, as if she had aged a thousand years over the passage of the night. I turned to the priest, and saw that he too was blinded by the shadows; nothing I could do could change their listlessness.

"I do not know you", I said, as I knelt upon the ground, "but this priest here has spoken of you, and spoken your praises, he said you were a loving Creator, that you had written my love for Becka before the existence of time. He told me you died for us, but did not stay dead, that you died for the remission of our sins, if you all the things he said you are, then you know I do not know if I believe him, but that aside, I am alone here, and I am in dire need of help. Look about me and you will see Becka, and your priest, and you will see that some terrible lethargy has overcome them, and I do not know how to heal them. Put a Basilisk in front of me and I can fight it, put an army around me and I will do battle to protect my wife, and the priest, but this is such a thing I cannot see, nor touch, it is a matter of the spirit, and in these matters I know little. So I ask for your help in defeating this terrible plague. I am not one to make bargains, and you know this, so I will not say I will serve you, if you help, but if you can help, and do, maybe it would be okay if we talked again sometime. "

I could not say for certain what I expected, but it definitely was not what happened…a clap of thundered echoed through the trees, and dirt sprayed outward as a blazing object impacted it, just as the dust was beginning to clear there were more thunderbolts crashing to the earth, leaving dust flying all about. As the dust finally cleared I saw figures walking about the camp, and they glowed as if they had some sort of internal light, and at first they were hard to look at, yet as my eyes adjusted to the blinding light I saw they looked as other men. Then the one who appeared to be the leader walked up to me, though his mouth never opened I heard his words inside my head, he spoke in a melodious lilting way, it was as if every word was a song, and I could hear every nuance, every chord, every pattern within the harmony, and my mind vibrated from the sheer weight of it all.

"You have found favour with the Creator, He smiles upon you, and has sent us to aid you in this battle. Such a thing has not been in these lands since time beyond memory, and they are but a minor enemy compared to the one you must soon face, indeed they are but a minor contrivance of his to delay you, and had you not called for help, they might have defeated you. You are young, but you had the wisdom to seek help, and you will always have help when you call for it, The High King loves when His champions seek Him out, and His standing order is you always be admitted to His presence.

"You are ill equipped to fight the battles you must, so The Gifting Giver has sent you a sword, and armour, you must learn how to use the armour on your own, but the sword has the ability to strike through living flesh and injure the evil within, never touching the outward flesh, but it can also be as a regular sword and cleave your enemy from head to toe. The blade is only as effective as its wielder, and you must trust the blade to do its job, if you fail in your trust the weapon is useless. I will train you in how to use such a blade, but remember such lessons are never easy, and rarely painless, and when you have learnt what I have to teach you will be the most formidable champion to date. Only this once do we fight your battle for you. "

"Last night I went out, and I discovered a building in the woods, within there were many shadows, and a poor man who had fallen victim to them, I could see no way to help him, yet I brought papers he must have written. I could not read the language they were written in, but I thought perhaps the priest, or my wife could, perhaps it would give a clue as how to help him," I said, passing him the papers.

As he touched them the letters on the page seemed to glow, then they got up and danced upon the page before falling off and crumbling into a pile of dust upon the ground. "The pages were a corruption of your Holy Writ, the letters you did not recognise had laid themselves atop what truly was written thereon, and they were in the script of the Ancient Enemy, had you been able to read them you would have been welcome in the shadows, for you would have been a slave of their master. First we will help your bride, and the priest, then we will see about the man in the woods, it speaks well of you that you remember his plight at such a time as this. "

I watched carefully as the man strode towards Becka, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the blade hurtling through her body. Not a drop of blood she shed, but a darkness, palpable, and thick came screaming out of her, cursing and begging, and threatening the man with the sword. Still wrapped around the blade the shadow started to dissipate, when from the blade an unearthly flame reached out and burnt the shadow, sending it flickering out into its constituent atoms, or whatever had comprised it. As the man walked to the priest, one of the others rushed to Becka, and the glow of life returned to her, her fires stoked, flames danced along her skin as if they were also glad to be free of the shadows. When the shadow had been cast from the priest, he opened his eyes, and for the first time seeing the men gathered about threw himself face first into the dirt screaming for mercy, pleading for forgiveness, begging for a second chance. Tears bedecked his face, as the herald of the Creator lifted him upright.

"Brother priest, we serve the same master, and you have served Him well, He is pleased with you, and has bestowed His blessing upon you. Rise now, Priest of the Living God, throw off your shackles of shame, know that you have found favour in His eyes. Know, oh priest, that your petitions have been heard, and soon the answer will be revealed to you, The Champion you shepherd is known to us as a Companion of the Most High, one He delights to call friend, you have done well brother priest, now rest, for soon comes a time when rest will be scarce to find".

These were the mighty heralds, of whom I had heard so much. Messengers of the One God, who strode about bathed in glory, who Holy Mother Church had encapsulated in layers of heresy. These were the beings sent to help in my plight, only upon my asking the Creator for assistance, I was awestruck, never had I ever been taught of such benevolence, and it was with such an act that I started to believe the priest's tales. Having dealt with the shadows, Becka, and the priest were being ministered to by some few of the heralds, the rest, and I also, turned to the woods, to seek out the other sufferer.

It was dark when first I came upon the place in the woods, now the entire wood was bathed in the light of the dawn, and the shadows were thrown away by the radiance of the host that came with me. I found the prints of my horse, and followed them deep into the heart of the wood. There I saw by day light what must have been, once, a minor palace. The structure was more ruins than anything, but the entry was as I had left it, the door swinging in the morning breeze, and all within was in shadow, for the candles had long since been burned to a nub.

We entered within the structure, and the heralds radiated a blazing light, all shadows dissipated, the desk glowed, and letters rose dancing from the few pages there, and fell tumbling to the floor, evaporating into nothingness. As we headed for the stair the leader who had first spoken to me, spoke again.

“Lad, you have done well to lead us here, but now you must stay here, there is a palpable evil within, one which we are better prepared to deal with. I recognize the scent of one who I once counted as a brother, and even the champion of the Most High is not yet able to deal with such a creature. Stay with the one I leave with you”.

“You tell me it is an evil, the like of which I am not prepared to meet, on this we can agree, but I must ask for tutelage, for in the future, should I chance to meet such an evil, I must be prepared. I cannot always be asking for assistance when I should be able to deal with something, I cannot in good conscience be asking you to help, if I can learn to deal with it without help”, I responded, acquiescing to his request to stay up stairs.

I swear the herald smiled, if only a wee curling of his mouth, when I made my statement, but he headed down the stairs without replying, and several others went with him. From the sounds coming from the rooms beneath I was certain a great battle must be raging, the echoes of a grand struggle burst forth, up the stairs, and within our ears. I was almost ready to head down to help, when one of the heralds interposed himself betwixt the stair, and I. At once the sounds dissipated, as if it all had been in my imagination. Within a few minutes more they came back up the stair, and the poor unfortunate man was with them.

He was haggard, and bloody, his beard was tangled with his hair, and a haunted look dwelt in his eyes, but he was sane, and looking better than the previous night. The heralds looked no more unkempt than when they first arrived, not a hair out of place. The leader looked at the one who had remained with me, what passed between them I do not know, but I do know they both started to laugh, as if filled with utter joy. The poor man looked as if he were about to wilt with confusion, and with shame, he still stood naked in our midst. I removed my outer cloak, and wrapped it about him, covering his nakedness, and allowing him some little dignity. The others looked on with approval.

When we returned to the camp, the priest looked up, and saw the man we had with us, and wept. I do not know why he wept, it was incomprehensible to me, but weep he did, and the man seeing the priest weeping soon began to weep himself. It was as if the tears washed away some remnant of the shadows, because soon they were embracing each other, as if they were brothers long separated. I turned to Becka, and saw her looking a thousand times better, I felt her joy at my return, her admiration of me, and i felt flames burning in my cheeks, not of shame, but because I was unworthy of such adoration. Perhaps I was learning humility with the other things i was learning.

Adventure
Like

About the Creator

Jeremy Cavenagh

I am one of those people who has been almost everywhere, and done almost everything, I write stories, mostly fiction, or Science Fiction, and I write poetry.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.