Blade and Prayer
The restoration of Lothoria
Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Ruins of the past
“Tell me where the Vault of Herons is! Tell me now, woman, or I shall rip your babe’s limbs, one after another!”
To bolster his hellish claim, he held the tiny child by the leg and viciously shook until something snapped. Terrified, the babe wailed with full lungs, but after suffering this much pain, fainted. The armor-clad villain cared more about getting an answer to his question; he kept swinging his shimmering zhatarn in an intimidating manner, with utter disregard for the life of this babe.
Her rag-wearing mother lie beaten bloody on the ground, helpless to do anything – both her legs broken.
“Please, I know not of any v-vault! I beg of you, spare my child!” – Desperately pleaded for mercy the woman, hands reaching for her babe.
Disgusted, he scowled at the miserable hut which her haggard figure lay in front of.
It was as if his cold eyes were asking the dilapidated construction the exact same question and even expected an answer. A cold winter gust brought the echoes of distant, gurgling screams and the brutal clamor of weapons. Battle was raging not so far away, and the armored warrior unleashed one long, angered snarl.
One need not waste their time searching around said abode either; the only thing of import here was a half-ruined well. The falling apart masonry alluded for times long lost, when the people inhabiting these lands had knowledge and skill. The construction was designed for convenience and built to last from big, perfectly shaped stone blocks. Yet, it now lay partially shattered, ruined by a combination of time and neglect.
The well’s once efficient and easy to use bucket pulley was replaced by one eaten by rot, ravaged by the years, rope. Tied at its end were the remnants of a earthen pot, the moldy pieces of which rolled nearby. Those people who now inhabited this place, they couldn’t or simply wouldn’t be bothered enough to make a proper, wooden bucket.
Everything till one’s eye could see was a desolate steppe; barely a plant or even a rock standing out.
“Worthless...” – Spat out the annoyed warrior, tossing away the no longer needed lump of flesh into the well.
The mother’s terrified, doom expecting wail echoed across the field, yet there was no splash of water. No desperate gargle, no pain-filled cries as the hapless babe drowned, either. A ominous crackle of discharged energy echoed, mere seconds after he threw the child, followed by a fatherly voice:
“There, there, everything will be fine little one. The monster can’t hurt you anymore.”
With practiced ease the startled warrior turned around, weapon raised and ready to fight.
Eyes wincing behind his helm, he witnessed two rather tall men, and both were armed to the teeth. They had somehow positioned behind him and without his trained senses even noticing them walking; one of them held the woman’s child in his a powerful, large hand. While one appeared to be another, quite well-armored leht, the would-be babe killer focused immediately at his strange-looking companion. Brain running all the necessary thoughts which one might have in a startling situation like this, the cruel warrior spat out:
“A mage!”
The warrior held a small amulet when he said this, almost as a warning to somebody else. Another person who was nowhere here, and yet, still able to receive said warning since this trinket appeared to be not of mundane means. Tiny, the amulet nevertheless blinked with surprisingly strong, reddish glow and its wearer snarled:
“That slave guard won’t save you, Terr’aan. Bawmordah’s powerful magicks will have your pitiful cadavers dance like mere puppets!”
“Dance we might, yet you won’t be alive to see it.” – With calm, yet quite stern voice stated the young leht, who moved to shield his Terran companion.
“The degenerate assumes that this mere trinket would shield his rotting mind from my thoughts.”
Still holding the now smiling babe, Kanefer made a gentle motion with his free hand, before uttering one powerful word:
“Shatter!”
The blinking amulet splintered and turned to dust, while its reddish light immediately dimmed, vanished as if it never was.
Shaking, the no longer arrogant warrior attempted to hide behind the wounded mother. Yet, in a stunning display of power and precision, a lightning bolt slammed the ground mere inches before his boot. More the villain could not do since, with shield raised and sword ready to strike, behind him stood Varen. The young leht unleashed a bout of scornful laughter and after glancing off a probing zhatarn swing, stated:
“Your fake god can’t save you now.”
These words pushed his opponent’s buttons and he flew into nigh uncontrollable rage.
“I was blessed by Holy Rot! As long I... as long as We temple leht live, He lives!” – Screeched with zealous fervor this remnant of a dying order.
“Coping with your inevitable, deserving punishment, by desperately clinging to the vestiges of a fake and quite dead ‘god.’ Worthless...” – Kanefer’s powerful baritone boomed over the leht’s obnoxious screeching.
“Rot lives in Death!” – Foam on his lips, bellowed the temple leht and, abandoning all thoughts of self-preservation, lunged at Varen.
His stance steady and mind alert, the young warrior read the enemy well. After baiting the temple leht he made a step back and to the side, while at the same time angling his shield. Fully committed to his reckless assault, the leht lost his balance. His feet made another step forward before he collapsed on the barren earth, head cleanly sliced from his body.
“May your body feed this earth! When the worms devour your rotting flesh, new and healthy growth shall sprout from the soil. May the crops be bountiful and the trees burdened with fruit, so those whom you came to enslave, prosper.” – Kanefer said a Egyptian prayer, when he walked past the headless, profusely bleeding temple leht.
“This is the Terr’aan Way!” – Agreed Varen, as he sheathed his cleaned blade.
The woman, startled more by the fact that someone came to help her, than the gory corpse laying before her, asked:
“Who... who are you? I never heard of Terr’aans or saw their Mages.”
Varen lifted his visor, inducing a surprised gasp from the mother, whose wounds were being treated by Kanefer.
“B-b-but you are... Lothorian?!”
“Indeed I am! Rejoice, sister, for your yoke is over. Our homeland is no longer oppressed, nor our people used as beasts of burden by degenerate Lords and Priests. Soon our allies will come, and then all who live here, be given the chance to return back home!”
Her babe returned to her and fully healed, the mother wept and bit her tongue, while the regenerative medication fixed her broken legs. She braved the pain, in a manner which only one who’d suffered much, could. While other, weaker of spirit aliens would cry out or even faint, the woman uttered not one single whimper.
“Then I will wait here, by my hovel, and greet your allies.” – said the mother and slowly stood up on her wobbling legs, using the side of her hut as support.
“Though... I do not know how they look like.” – Mumbled she, and took the food Kanefer offered her with shaking hand.
The Egyptian used a clean vacfoam rag to wipe her and her babe’s faces. He gifted them with a fatherly smile and inquired:
“Mother, if you would give me permission, I will think it inside your mind.”
“Permission?!” – Her lower lip trembled and she sobbed a bit, once again surprised by this display of benevolence – “No mage that I know of even asks for permission. They simply violate our mind whenever they like...”
The woman looked at him and then made another motion with her hand, agreeing to his proposal.
“Their violations will end, I promise you. Now, relax and open your mind, mother.” – Kanefer spoke softly and aglow with Starfire, his eyes met the woman’s.
Tiny sparkles of hope alit in her otherwise tired eyes, and the mother smiled as she wiped her tears.
“When they come, I will greet these Samurai.”
Varen searched the temple leht’s bloody corpse, examined the modified by space age tech zhatarn, and the armor reinforced with Taz’aran Arnium alloy. He canted his helmeted head, sighed and asked the woman:
“Sister, I dare not intrude, but where is your husband?”
“Dead. He succumbed to the Rake fever, last rotation. I have been alone ever since.”
“Don’t you have any relatives, friends, who live in that hamlet over there?” – Now it was Kanefer’s turn to ask, as he pointed at the not-so-distant hill.
The woman made a motion with her hand, meaning that she had no one left. With a lot of easy to sense hesitation, she answered the Egyptian’s question:
“The village of Enehron is... or at least was,” – she stopped for a short while since there were the sounds of ongoing battle, still echoing in the distance – “under the control of our m-master, Overlord Schalb. His guards would never allow any outlander to stride around the village, as they please.”
“How many are these guards?” – Inquired Varen, eyes squinting at the distant mound, trying to pick more details.
“I never tried to count, but I guess... five times ten fingers?”
“Good, if we are lucky, they and the temple leht will kill each other!” – Said Kanefer and slowly walked the dirt road leading to Enehron.
After giving the mother one of his own rations, the young leht followed his Terran companion. For the first few minutes, they remained silent, both trying to analyze the quickly losing steam clamor of battle. It was evident that one side was winning, yet how well and what was the number of their dead or wounded, they could only imagine.
“I doubt that the temple leht would suffer much casualties, my friend.” – There was suspicion in Varen’s voice as he spoke, mind remembering the temple leht’s armored corpse.
“With the likes of Bawmordah and Mogran leading them, soon they’d have complete control of that hamlet.”
The young warrior hastened his stride a bit to keep up with Kanefer and followed with another conclusion:
“That or they’d slay everyone in sight. The crazed fanatic throwing that innocent baby in the well, this is what the temple leht usually do. There is even an order written in the Rottiah, calling for the execution of all the heretics’ children.”
“You mean they’d start killing people on sight?!”
“No, not at once. It is highly ritualistic and organized, you see.” – spat out with utter contempt Varen and explained:
“They’d first assume full control of a settlement, secure all exits so that not a soul could escape and then begin rounding up the populace.”
“But... they have only one reinforced with renegade bandits lehta!” – With hope-laden voice attempted to interject the Egyptian, yet he was almost running even before his companion answered:
“Those are temple leht. This is what they are expertly trained to do. Moreover, there are two monsters in command, and one of them is fully capable of turning this entire hamlet into a smoldering grave.” – Rumbled the Lothorian warrior and inhaled deeply, before he too, ran.
They both strutted forth and with an even, quick pace; their gear gently clanking and creaking when they needed to leap over a hole in the road. It took them no more than twenty star-minutes to reach a small, dried out riverbed. The two concealed themselves there and, after noticing the eerie silence coming from the hamlet, took a moment to survey the clouded with evening shadows area ahead.
That hill did indeed look a bit strange, its steep sides covered in hovels, only the very top featured a few stone buildings. In Varen’s eye, the tall hill absolutely resembled the shape of a long sand dune, the likes he’d been digging for the better part of his life. Not of sand, but dead soil, which had a sickly yellowish color.
Kanefer raised an eyebrow and pointed at the top, before asking:
“Varen, were you able to unearth buildings swallowed by the desert?”
“Well, it did happen from time to time since there was an older capital, all consumed by the sa... You mean to say that this not a natural hill, but a long buried construction?!”
“That well, back at the widow’s home; it is a construction that any Egyptian can recognize. We built this...” – stated Kanefer and pointed at the hilltop with squinted eyes – “My kin constructed that temple and we made it to last.”
“Then that village is actually sitting on top of the very vault we are looking for!” – Varen was ready to leap forward, when he said this, hand on his sword’s handle.
“Not... exactly.” – Almost whispered the priest and made a mysterious gesture, fingers crossed before his very eyes.
Irises crackling with lightning, Kanefer stood like this for a good two minutes.
“Just as some of the scrolls allude and wise Alex Jones mentioned in his notes, this vault is accessible through means of Other Space. Meaning, those who seek entry must be vetted by the Vault’s seals and guardians or...”
“Or suffer harm?” – Completed his sentence Varen, a wide smirk on his face.
“I highly doubt that a fellow Egyptian priest would leave behind many a failsafe, clever traps, and vigilant guardians, who’d allow filth like these leht entrance.”
“Then we could proceed with caution?”
“That, my friend, I doubt we can allow ourselves to do. From what you told me about this Bawmordah, that vile hag will force her way in and in the process, cause much harm. No, it is best we enter first, make contact with the Vault’s guardians.”
“If possible, we should distract her and that thug, Mogran, keep them tied until our reinforcements arrive.” – Elaborated Varen, while the two climbed out of the river bed and walked forth with caution.
“Let us first gain entrance inside the Vault, friend, see what the situation is. I have... I feel something is not quite right...” – Eyes full of worry said the priest and held his djed amulet for a few seconds.
Kanefer’s breath hastened and he suddenly stopped, hand stretched forwards, eyes once more aglow with Star Fire. Confused, the Lothorian stopped and assumed a defensive stance, shield raised to protect his companion. There were no attackers charging from the shadows or apparitions’ ghostly limbs clawing at them from a space between spaces.
“There is a presence.” – Finally relaxed, stated with much worry in his voice Kanefer.
There were many questions on Varen’s face and before he could utter them one after another, the Egyptian whispered:
“No, our luck is not that good, my friend. What I felt reaching at me from the inside of that Vault was something ancient and... evil. My guess is that this, whatever it is, managed to breach the seals and was then contained by the guardians.”
“What would some powerful thing want with the Book of Herons?!”
“The book is not just a simple, culturally important item, my young Lothorian friend. I, and many other priests not of my temple, have long suspected that the Voice of Horus, our esteemed ancestor, he crafted a telepathic artifact. One which could be of great use not only to a knightly warrior, such as yourself and your brothers in arms, but also a mage.”
The Lothorian looked at the not-so-distant hill first, then his worried Terran companion and said:
“It makes sense since Mages can be Herons too.”
“It would seem that we are, once again, overtaken by the events. For if we do not act quickly and that torturer Bawmordah uses her powers to force her way inside, something much more terrifying could descend upon this planet. I rather prefer we face IT within the Vault’s confines, possibly with the guardians on our side, than out here, alone...”
“Not alone... but with the temple leht, one of their most vile commanders and a power obsessed hag ready to attack at a moment’s notice.”
The Lothorian canted his head, lowered the helmet’s visor and made a step towards the hill, adding:
“My Terr’aan brother, we are not overtaken by, but exactly where and when we need to be! The Universe itself, our ascended Ancestors guided us here so we can fulfill our duty to kin and land. Stand we will, shoulder to shoulder against monsters both of past and present, become a bulwark of flesh, mind, and spirit. And if we should fall, then of those who stand against us let there be few left alive and they, terrified beyond measure by our valor!”
Kanefer cracked his neck, grabbed the snub gun and switched off its safety, before he uttered with a wide grin on his face:
“For Life Eternal!”
What will the two Herons face, when they make their way inside the Vault? A creature beyond their means to defeat, something made of ancient nightmares, waiting for yet another adventurer to devour? That, and what would these obsolete, yet still dangerous remnants of Rot’s broken order do? This and more, in the next installment titled, ’Bulwark of the Will.’
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You can find this and many more stories in my 2nd Anthology collection, The Blood Of Tyrants.
Saved for tomorrow :o)