The inn was quiet now, the few remaining patrons whispering in hushed tones. The aftermath of the fight and the appearance of the assassin had sobered everyone up considerably.
Eldrin led the way through the interconnected taverns and inns, weaving through darkened hallways and shadowy common rooms. About half had shut down for business, while the other half were nearly empty. Justin marveled at how the Ranger moved so silently, likely thanks to his Boots of Silent Steps. Lila followed close behind, her steps also light. Justin did his best to imitate them, but the occasional creak betrayed his presence. Alistair, in his heavy armor, was the loudest, but that couldn’t be helped.
They emerged into the final tavern, a place called The Moonlit Rest, which was dimly lit by a few flickering lanterns. The patrons here were asleep at their tables or quietly talking in corners.
Eldrin motioned for them to stay close as he approached a side door, his eyes scanning the street beyond. He turned to the others. “Ready?”
Justin nodded, gripping his cane tightly, while Lila gave a quick nod, her eyes alert and focused now. The shadowed path they needed to take was clear: about ten steps across the cobbled street to the wrought-iron fence. Beyond lay a dark courtyard filled with trees, with the shadowy spires and buttresses of the cathedral looming above. The half-moon gave the scene a menacing air. He tried not to think about what might be out there in the darkness.
Eldrin opened the door just enough for them to slip through one by one. They stepped into the cool night air, the street empty and silent. The iron fence of the Church of Light’s courtyard loomed ahead, its spiked top casting long shadows in the moonlight.
“Over the fence,” Eldrin whispered. “Quickly and quietly.”
Justin glanced at the fence, then at Lila. She gave him a determined look before stepping up to the iron bars. With surprising agility, she climbed over, her movements smooth and practiced. Justin followed, his hands gripping the cold iron as he hoisted himself up and over with a boost from both Eldrin and Alistair. Eldrin and Alistair were over the fence in moments. Justin was surprised Alistair could do so in his heavy armor, but he supposed that was what the Power Attribute was for. His landing was hard, his armor clanking, but nothing could be done about that.
Once inside the courtyard, they moved swiftly across the cobblestones, heading for the side doors of the church, up a set of stone steps. Those doors were quite grand, considering it wasn’t the main entrance.
Eldrin reached the doors first, testing them gently, but they wouldn’t open. Alistair then approached, placing a gauntleted hand on the wood. A glyph shone briefly at his touch, creating the shape of a radiant sunburst surrounded by a hexagon of six lights in the colors of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Somehow, Justin knew those colors each represented an Attribute. The heavy wooden doors swung open with a faint creak.
“Stay close,” Alistair said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet night. “The next step is to find the High Cleric. He’s likely in the undercroft.”
They slipped inside, the sanctuary of the Church of Light illuminated by the soft glow of floating enchanted crystals. The air was cool and still, the silence reverent. The vastness of the space, dimly lit and filled with shadowy columns, made Justin feel as though anything could jump out at them. From Lila’s wide green eyes, it seemed she was having similarly dark thoughts.
Eldrin led them through the main hall, past rows of empty pews and grand stained-glass windows that depicted scenes of fantastical creatures, Clerics healing the wounded, Paladins fighting monsters, and what had to be Arion himself, God of Power. He was portrayed as a tall, muscular figure with flowing hair and a serene expression, holding a war hammer that emanated red light.
At the end of the hall, a smaller, nondescript door led to what had to be the undercroft. Alistair led the way, knocking softly. The sound was barely audible in the stillness. Justin thought they would never get an answer when a narrow metal grate opened, revealing a a sleepy-eyed Cleric peeping out.
“What is it at this hour?” he asked groggily. Then, seeing who was speaking, he straightened and unlatched the door, swinging it open. “Sir Paladin! Are you here about the bill?”
Alistair frowned in confusion. “What bill?”
“The one sent to Mont Elea by the High Cleric Theophilus. We’ve been waiting for months!”
Everyone looked at each other, puzzled.
Alistair cleared his throat, his presence commanding even in the dim light. “I am Alistair of Drakendale, Paladin Brother of the Mont Elea Chapter House. I’ve been away from the Mont for many months now, so I know nothing about the bill. We seek an audience with the High Cleric. It is of utmost importance.”
The Cleric’s eyes widened. “Of course, Sir Paladin. Please, give me a few moments.”
They waited in silence for about three minutes, those three minutes seeming to stretch into eternity for Justin. At last, the Cleric returned.
“The High Cleric will see you at once; I can take you to him directly. I’m Brother Eamon, by the way.”
“Lead the way, Brother.”
They followed Eamon through a series of narrow corridors, and when the undercroft door was shut behind them, latched, and even barred, Justin felt much safer. Perhaps the Brother had sensed something in the Paladin’s manner that had inspired him to redouble the door’s security. While Justin was certain that nothing had marked their passing in the street’s darkness, it was nice to be as safe as possible. It had taken all of two minutes for them to leave The Moonlit Rest and get inside the cathedral with hardly any sound.
If that wasn’t good enough, he didn’t know what was.
Instead, he turned his attention to the gray stone walls, adorned with tapestries and portraits of what seemed to be past High Clerics, all wearing crimson robes and pointy, conical hats. Finally, they arrived at a humble oaken door, which Brother Eamon knocked on softly.
“Come in,” a voice intoned from the other side.
Brother Eamon opened the door, stepping out of the way, revealing the High Cleric, an elderly man with a flowing white beard and piercing blue eyes, who sat at a large wooden desk. The office was modestly furnished, with a few chairs and shelves lined with ancient tomes and religious artifacts. The room had an aura of quiet authority, reflecting the man who occupied it.
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Despite the late hour, the High Cleric seemed alert and composed. “Sir Alistair. I’ve read your name in official dispatches, of course, so it is with great pleasure I can meet you in person, despite the late hour. Brother Eamon has informed me you haven’t come about the bill, but I can’t imagine any other reason you’d arrive at such a time.”
Alistair stepped forward, bowing slightly. “High Cleric Theophilus, I wish I could say that was true; however, as Brother Eamon said, we’ve come for another reason. We seek refuge and a safe passage out of Highcliff. Our enemies are closing in, and we believe the catacombs beneath the city may offer us a way out.”
The High Cleric studied Alistair for a moment, frowning slightly. “Enemies? What enemies?”
“The tale would take too long to relate, and to be perfectly candid, the less you know, the safer you will be.”
The High Cleric gave a dark chuckle. “Ah, cloak and dagger, is it? Very well, I won’t press for details.”
“This is no joke, High Cleric. I don’t believe our pursuers would follow us here, as we covered our tracks carefully, thanks to the Ranger here I’ve contracted. I will say this much. The Life Magic infused in the cathedral’s stones will serve as a sure guard against the ones coming after us.”
“I catch your meaning,” the High Cleric said darkly. “Grievous news indeed, and I sense no lie in your words, though you keep strange company for a Paladin. Whatever ails you, you came to the right place.”
He studied them briefly, and to Justin, it seemed his eyes lingered on him the longest. Perhaps he could sense the stain of the Death Mark upon him, just like Alistair. With a start, Justin realized that this would be the third rising of the moon since he’d received it from the Baron, and the very thought made his stomach queasy.
“I will do what I can to help,” the High Cleric continued, interrupted Justin’s thoughts. “Such is my charge to all of Arion’s faithful. Should we write the Mont, as little good as that would do?”
“I’m going there with all speed, High Cleric,” Alistair said. “I must be the one to deliver the message.”
“Of course. I don’t mean to stick my nose into a Paladin’s business. I only wish to help.”
“And I am grateful for it. So, will you grant us access to the catacombs?”
The High Cleric gave an ironic smile. “Yes, I am happy to. However, I regret to inform you that the catacombs are… closed.”
Justin felt a tinge of fear at those words. Was this Theophilus playing them false?
Alistair frowned. “Closed? What do you mean? The dead must be interred, no?”
“Indeed, they must. Hence why I was confused that you didn’t come because of the bill.”
“It is too late for riddles, High Cleric,” Eldrin said, perhaps a bit too gruffly.
The High Cleric, with patience, faced the Ranger. “Perhaps it’s better to show you what I mean than tell you. I would let you be the judge. Follow me.”
The High Cleric rose from his desk, his plain crimson robes seeming to glow as he moved. Justin knew Cleric was a class with access to healing and support magic. A Paladin came from the combination of a Cleric and a Warrior core, which likely meant Alistair outranked him, but the High Cleric was probably a highly placed Church official in his own right, of a decent level and capabilities.
Theophilus led them from his office and down another corridor, where a heavy door was barred twice. The High Cleric removed the bars, opening the door to reveal a small, dusty chapel, quite intimate, likely for the private use of the Church’s staff. It was so dark that Alistair had to cast his Creator’s Light, as no floating crystals lit its interior. The air was cool and musty, and it was obvious the chapel wasn’t being maintained.
And, of course, why would a small chapel like this need to be barred? To Justin, it certainly seemed spooky. Almost haunted.
They passed rows of dusty pews, some laced with cobwebs, until they reached the back where, behind the altar, a set of steps led downward to a small chamber of stone, at the end of which stood a heavy stone door.
And before that door stretched a green barrier of light, flickering with mysterious runes. Justin’s skin went cold at the sight.
At their stunned silence, the High Cleric gave a sad smile. “Now you see why I’ve been eagerly awaiting a team from the Mont to arrive. The Vault first appeared four months ago, and it has only grown stronger since.”
Alistair’s face was pale. “And they have done nothing? What Level is it now, High Cleric?”
“Level 13,” he said somberly. “It began at Level 8, which is far beyond our capabilities as a Church. I hope your party is equipped to face such danger?”
Thirteen. So, this Vault would be even tougher than the Guardians’ Pass, if only slightly so. And of course, the nature of the danger could be very different.
“What do you think?” Eldrin asked of the Paladin.
Alistair gave an ironic laugh. “Never have I seen so many Vaults gather from the Ether! And always in the very place we must be going. Something tells me the Gods are playing with us.”
The High Cleric watched the Paladin neutrally. “The Gods test us for strength and faith, Sir Paladin, so that we may learn to rely on them.”
“Of course,” Alistair said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “And I suppose you didn’t want to put out a general call to clear it, wanting to keep it within the Church?”
Theophilus nodded gravely. “Yes. If the Church is viewed as weak, it would harm our reputation. After all, ours is not the only faith competing for the hearts of men these days. But you need access to the catacombs, and I need someone within the Church to clear it. This may be the providence of Arion himself.”
“Indeed,” Alistair said, his voice tired. “I hope you’ll forgive us, Theophilus, but it’s been an eventful week. If it’s not too much trouble, we would camp here in the chapel. Assuming the Vault hasn’t broken containment.”
“It has not,” the High Cleric said, “but I would urge you to reconsider. Though it hasn’t broken containment, it could do so at any moment. Though it’s rare for a Level 13 Vault, it’s happened.”
Justin frowned. There was another new term he had yet to learn. “Broken containment?”
Eldrin explained. “When Vaults become too strong, or have stuck around too long, they can begin releasing nasty things. Monsters, mostly, but sometimes even diseases or curses. The risk is quite low for a Level 13 Vault, but not unknown.”
“Indeed,” Alistair said. “Then again, there is no safe place for us in all Highcliff, and this one seems about the safest. The Vault should stay passive, at least for one more night.”
The High Cleric looked at Alistair as if he were crazy, but in the end, he conceded. “Of course, I will leave the decision to you. Tomorrow, I can have Brother Eamon bring some breakfast and general supplies. It seems you could use both.”
“That would be most appreciated.”
The High Cleric gave a small bow. “I know not from what you flee, but I will have you know you are safe here. All are welcome in the Church of Light; we are ever a bastion against Death and Darkness. Take what rest and respite you can and let me know tomorrow if you wish to exorcise us of this curse.”
Alistair nodded. “I shall do so. Thank you, High Cleric.”
“Unfortunately, given the danger of the Vault, I must bar the chapel for the night. I will post Brother Eamon by the door just in case.”
“Do what you must, High Cleric,” Alistair said. “Good night.”
He withdrew, leaving the party alone. When the chapel door was closed, Justin could hear two heavy bars being placed behind the door. It was like two nails being driven into a coffin.
“Glad I’m not claustrophobic,” Lila said.
They made camp in the chapel above, setting up next to the heavy oak door. Within minutes, their bedrolls had been spread.
“Let’s sleep,” Alistair said. “I can keep the first watch.”
“I’ll take second,” Eldrin said. “Wake me in three hours.”
Wit that, Justin, Lila, and Eldrin had settled down to sleep.
Despite his exhaustion, Justin had difficulty drifting off. The thought of what might be released from the Vault was unnerving. He could only imagine the many horrifying creatures that might emerge from the darkness: spectral wraiths, monstrous beasts, or even curses that could afflict them. The weight of the unknown pressed heavily on his mind.
In the end, sleep won out. He took some solace in knowing that Alistair and Eldrin were well-qualified to keep watch, and the fact he would gain a level from his banked experience, which could prove crucial for the challenges ahead.