Chapter Thirty-Three - A Test of Faith
54th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era
Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex
They hadn't yet arrived at Shorefarm that they knew that something was wrong.
The houses by the edge of the town hadn't been loud and very active when they left for the mansion, but there had been people there. Women putting out the wash, men tending to wood piles and maintaining their homes.
Now the yards were empty save for a few stray dogs and cats and perhaps a chicken or two. There was no person in sight, not even a curious or playful child.
"Strange," Viridian said.
"A little," Carnel said. "Maybe they went into the town?"
"Maybe we shouldn't just walk in so easily?" Lazur asked.
It wasn't a bad proposal, Viridian judged. Before they reached the gate leading into Shorefarm, they veered off the road and circled around a small wooded area. Looking past the bushes and fallen trees in the young forest, they were able to make out three guards at the gate. Two more than there had been earlier. The men were tense, clinging onto their spears and shifting as they stared out at the road.
Viridian wasn't sure what had turned them so nervous, but she had an inkling that it wasn't something good for her or her companions.
They found a spot along the wall where someone had dragged a fallen tree closer. The large trunk was just close enough that on climbing it, they were able to grab onto the top of the wall, then scale down the other side without too much difficulty.
That landed all three of them within the town, and from there, it was clear that something was wrong.
It wasn't so much something she observed, but rather something she felt. "There's something wrong," Viridian said.
"It's the magic," Lazur said. "It's being concentrated."
Viridian wasn't sure what that meant, but she trusted her companion. "Let's find the priest?" she asked.
"Where will we ambush him?" Carnel asked. "He won't just walk out to here alone."
"Maybe... inside the church?" Viridian asked. "It's closed, and he won't feel like he's in danger there?"
"We don't know the layout," Lazur said. "But I think that it might be a good place to start."
As they pushed in deeper into the town, they crossed more homes and small farmsteads. They were empty. It wasn't long before they discovered where the citizens of Shorefarm were hidden, however.
The town square was packed.
There had to be two, maybe three hundred people, all spread out and squeezed into clumps. The low chatter of so many people talking all at once carried over the sounds of wind and Viridian found herself pulling back into cover around a fence, lest the townsfolk notice her.
There were priests amongst the crowd. Young men and women with baskets that had bread and other foodstuffs that they were silently passing out. People took their share and ate on the spot, and from the speed at which they did so, the people were hungry.
The main bulk of the crowd was pushed towards one end of the square, opposite the town's church. It was almost as if they were waiting for its doors to open and for something to happen.
"I think we can go around," Viridian said. The back of the church was unguarded at the moment, and there were a few buildings between them and the square that could provide cover if they went the long way around.
"Probably for the best," Lazur said. She looked down, then checked her short sword in its sheath.
Viridian did the same. This might be, she reasoned, their last chance to look over their equipment before a fight started. Right now, all she had was her sword and pike, but it would be enough... she hoped.
They snuck through the town, and Viridian felt like they were little more than thieves at the moment as they worked to avoid any notice. Whenever they crossed a space where they might be seen, they did so quickly and as quietly as they could manage.
Soon enough, they were by the rear of the church. Unlike the front of the building, this area was far less stately and grand. It could have been the back of any old house, though it was, admittedly, well-built.
There was a door by the rear, with a small window looking into a tiny but well-appointed dining area.
The church's back section was large enough that Viridian suspected that the head priest, at least, lived here, and maybe the others assisting him as well.
The back door was locked.
"Wait, I know how to fix this," Carnel said.
"How?" Viridian asked.
"No," Lazur said, but it was too late. Carnel's entire body crashed into the door, shoulder-first, and with a loud, splintering crack, the door blew open. "Subtle."
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"Maybe that can be my second name," Carnel said. "Carnel the Subtle." She pulled her sword free from its sheath, then walked into the back.
It wasn't long before someone rushed out to meet them. A young man. The same young man that had been with the head priest that morning. He came around the corner, eyes already wide only for them to widen further as he saw the three stepping into his space.
Viridian placed a hand on Carnel's shoulder and slid ahead of her companion. "Hello," she said as she tried to hide Carnel's sword with her body. "We're here to talk to the Head Priest."
"Head Priest Highthorn?" the young man asked. "He's in the main hall. What did you do to the door?"
"It broke," Carnel said.
"We have something for Head Priest Highthorn," Viridian said. "Can we go see him?"
"Do you mean the apprentice? Did you capture him?" the young man asked.
"Yes," Lazur lied. "But we are keeping him in a secure place until the Head Priest holds his end of the bargain."
The man recoiled. "You wouldn't trust him?" he asked.
"We have no reason to," Viridian said. "May we go see him? In the meantime, you might want to repair your doorway? It broke. Somehow."
The young man seemed perplexed, but he did slip past the three of them and look at the state of the door. It was actually not so bad. The doorframe, however, was clearly cracked through and broken where the latch was.
"Let's go," Viridian urged her companions forward.
They stepped further into the church's rear chambers, their footfalls landing on creaky wooden floors. The interior was warmly decorated, with a few desks tucked into corners and shelves covered in parchment and rolled up scrolls.
Viridian's fingers tightened around the haft of her pike as they moved through the corridor. The back of the church was well-kept but unadorned. It wasn't until they stepped through an archway into a larger chamber that they were met with a sight of modest grandeur.
The main hall of the church stretched ahead of them, its vastness unexpected given the relatively modest exterior. Tall, fluted columns lined the nave, supporting a vaulted ceiling painted in deep blues and golds. Between each column, murals of dragons soared across the heavens, their long forms intertwined with clouds, their eyes sharp and gleaming as if they were watching those who passed below.
Standing beneath a towering stained-glass window depicting a radiant golden dragon was Head Priest Highthorn.
They had exited near the rear of the hall, not too far from the man himself. He looked up from the pulpit where he had been studying a thick tome and blinked at the lot of them. "You've returned," he said. "And yet you come in from the back, uninvited and unescorted. Without even a lower priest to inform me of your arrival. And there is a distinct lack of young mage apprentices with you, is there not?"
Viridian stepped forward, gripping her pike with a firm but careful hold. "We have the apprentice. But before we give him to you, we want... rewards."
Head Priest Highthorn shut his tome with a slow, deliberate motion, dust rising from its thick leather cover. He exhaled through his nose and tilted his head, studying them as though they were a curiosity, not a threat. His robes--deep crimson with golden embroidery--shimmered in the candlelight, their draconic motifs twisting with each slow movement.
"Rewards?" Highthorn's lips curled in amusement. "You enter my house unbidden, with steel bared, and you demand answers? You claim to act in service of a magus, yet you creep through my halls like thieves. This is not how civilized men conduct themselves."
"We're not men," Lazur stated flatly.
That made Highthorn pause. His eyes flicked across them, thoughtful. "No, you are not." He folded his hands before him. "You are constructs, children of craft and magic, bereft of true souls. And yet, you speak of purpose and intent. You masquerade as people." His voice took on a whisper of something that almost sounded like reverence. "I wonder... were you made in defiance of the dragons, or in their image? No, I think I tire of you. You and your lies."
A gust of searing heat erupted between them, forcing her back as golden light flared through the stained glass. The dragon depicted above moved, its eyes flashing with a terrible glow. The murals along the walls rippled as if alive, their painted dragons shuddering as something ancient stirred within them.
The torches flared. The air hummed with power. And the head priest's robes began to smolder, golden embers trailing from his sleeves like falling stars.
Highthorn exhaled slowly, his eyes burning with something not entirely his own.
"Let us test your faith," he murmured.
***