Konrad woke to the sound of running water and felt hard stone beneath him. The back of his leg was a dull ache and a hastily tied bandage had been wrapped around it. He tried to move and the pain caused a wave of nausea that almost made him vomit.

“Spirit?” he whispered.

He peered into the shadows, hoping that she had managed to follow him through the use of her new powers, but there was no sign of her.

He was in a cage with rusty iron bars. There were six cages in all, three on his side of the room and three on the other and the sound of dripping came from the water that flowed through cracks in the walls. He detected a faint sickly smell so he was still close to the filthy temple of Fela.

“Lyran, Casovan, Avram?”

He didn’t hold out much hope for any reply, champions were supposed to serve their gods, not ask them for help every time they got into trouble. Plus he had done precisely nothing to augment their powers.

The first thing he had to do was to heal his wounds. He focussed on the warm touch of Lyran but to his dismay nothing happened, he was utterly alone.

He dragged himself painfully over to a drier patch in the corner of the cell and slumped against the wall. How could he have known that Partick wasn’t all he seemed? Spirit didn’t notice anything and her judge of character was flawless. He thought of the tender way the skinny priest had dealt with the visitors to the temple and the scared look on his face when Father Jacques attacked and wondered if the young priest was just as much a prisoner as he was.

For the first time since leaving home Konrad fell prey to dark thoughts and he fell into a troubled sleep. In his dreams Alice, his mother and father, and Fra Dun worked under the hot sun, each of them shooting him disappointed frowns. When he tried to go to them he found his leg was useless and his crutch just out of his grasp. Athir was there, dancing merrily in the fields. She was smiling and laughing and her blond hair whipped around her face as she spun. Her dance partner was the ancient waif that had fixed his leg.

“Get up,” Athir called to him.

“I can’t dance, my leg doesn’t work.”

“No you idiot. Wake up!”

Konrads eyes snapped open, Athir’s shout still ringing in his ears. He heard footfalls approaching from the narrow staircase and he pulled himself deeper into the darkness of the cell.

A figure emerged holding a dim oil lamp that smoked gently and the evil looking crossbow.

“Partick?” Konrad said, scrambling up and hissing at the pain in his leg. “Where’s my dog?”

“She ran away, Father Jacques is looking for her. He’s real angry, she nearly took his arm off.”

Konrad felt at least a small amount of relief that Spirit had gotten away, with her powers Jacques would never find her.

“Why did you bring me here? I didn’t do anything to you. If you let me go and I won’t come back, I promise.”

“I can’t Konrad. She wants to speak to you. Just come, please.”

Partick’s tone was desperate and Konrad realised that the young priest was even more frightened than he was.

“Partick, who is Fela really? I can help you, I’m the champion of Lyran.”

“She said you would say that.” The tremble in Partick's voice betrayed his fear and the crossbow weaved dangerously in Konrad's direction.

“Okay, I’m coming.”

The staircase lead them to a winding tunnel that crept gently upwards and became dryer as they moved through its twists and turns. Eventually they exited into a cellar and then up into the church of Fela.

“Just do what she says, it’s better that way,” said Partick and hurried away leaving Konrad alone.

Silence fell in the small temple and the creeping smell of decay permeated the air.

“I am Fela god of health and wellbeing,” came a voice from the far wall.

The air shimmered gently around the black statue and it seemed to take on something close to being alive. It’s eyes could see and its mouth moved slightly when she spoke.

There was a pause in which the statue stared at Konrad expectantly.

“It is customary to bow.”

Konrad bent slightly in the middle, feeling uneasy about exposing the back of his neck to this strange entity.

“You have been deceived by a false idol who calls herself Lyran.”

“She hasn’t deceived me, she’s the real goddess of healing.”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

“Silence,” Fela snapped. Her words cut through the air and Konrad felt a pressure on his windpipe restricting his breath.

“Lyran threw away her power because she was vain and foolish. Now her legacy is less than a memory. You have sworn to her as champion, and for this I should call for the Father’s champions to deliver punishment. But I will give you an opportunity to renounce her, and swear fealty to me.”

Konrad could feel a pain building in his lungs as he suffocated and he crashed to his knees. The pressure released and he gasped for breath, feeling the nausea slowly fade.

He thought furiously as he pretended to catch his breath. This god was clearly evil and was likely responsible for destroying Lyran’s memory. What else did he know about the gods? Athir said they were all vain, perhaps they expected humans to be as narcissistic as they were?

“What will you give me?” Konrad croaked.

The stone mouth of the statue rose slightly at the corners.

“I have many gifts, certainly more than Lyran.”

“She gave me the gift of healing.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

Konrad felt a force on his leg like someone was digging a finger into the wound and he yelled out in pain.

“I’m going to need something impressive if I’m going to join you,” Konrad hissed.

“You’ve already seen my power at work. Did you find my young priest charming?”

Partick must have some power of deception granted by Fela. At least he now knew how he fooled Spirit.

“Not bad,” Konrad said. “I was hoping for more. I’ll stay with Lyran.”

The statue frowned. “You want to see real power?”

The stone sculpture cracked and came alive. Dozens of hairy legs sprouted from its body and a pair of tattered wings ripped free of its back with a tearing sound. The wings beat powerfully and a foul odour of decay washed over Konrad. He was stricken with fear and couldn’t move a muscle in his body, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“Join me and you can wield fear as a weapon,” came the distant voice of Fela.

The nightmarish apparition flew towards Konrad and just before it eviscerated him it vanished. The temple was empty and the statue nothing more than a stone carving.

Konrad slumped onto one of the benches breathing heavily and covered in a cold sweat. He heard Partick’s tentative footsteps approach.

“Take him back to the cells. Destroy the shrine,” Fela whispered.

“Yes Lady,” Partick muttered.

“You won’t get away with this,” Konrad said through gritted teeth.

But there was no response from Fela and Konrad remembered the way Lyran and the others faded after they used their powers.

Partick escorted Konrad back to the cells, the crossbow held loosely in his hands.

“Why do you serve her Partick, you must be able to see how evil she is?”

“My family was sick, and they came here to beg her for help.”

“She healed them?”

“No, nothing worked and I was left alone. She spoke to me and looked after me.”

“You have to listen to me Partick, the other gods aren’t like her. Lyran can be quite kind.”

They had reached the cage once again now and Konrad felt the tip of the crossbow in his back.

“She gave me powers to heal, real powers.”

“Then why don’t you heal yourself?” Partick slammed the rusted door shut and locked him in.

“It’s complicated, Lyran isn’t strong enough right now, because of Fela.”

Partick dropped a sack onto the floor and nudged it close to the bars with his foot. “There’s food and water in there.”

“Wait where are you going?”

“I have to destroy that shrine or she’ll be angry when she gets back.”

Konrad slumped down and as the hours passed he fell into a fitful sleep on the damp stone floor. Images of statues came to life and grasped at him, while Spirit faded in and out of the darkness whining.

When he woke he spent his first full day in captivity. He supposed that this was all a part of the job for adventurers and champions, but the stories never mentioned was how boring it was. The pain in his leg became a dull ache and he tentatively lifted the bandage and cleaned the wound, relieved to see that it didn’t seem infected, despite the filth around him. He spent some time exploring the lock with tiny shards of rusted metal, but he knew less about picking locks than he did about fighting.

The darkness didn’t change in the cells and he quickly lost track of time. How long could he stay down here, how long before he broke and swore himself to Fela?

Once he thought he saw a flicker of movement in one of the cells opposite. What looked like a figure pacing backwards and forwards seemingly as trapped as he was. When the figure vanished he wondered if he had seen a ghost for the first time and retreated to the back of the dungeon away from the door.

After what felt like an eternity he was woken by the sound of the gate lock clicking and then the loud screech of metal as it was forced open.

Partick stumbled in and Konrad instantly saw the fear etched on his face.

“Partick what’s wrong?” He cried leaping up and catching the boy awkwardly as he collapsed.

“I destroyed the shrine, but I cut myself,” he said, his voice weak.

Konrad felt dampness on Partick's robe and pulled it away with his manacled hands. Something sharp had sliced though Particks forearm right down to the bone. Blood was welling out of the wound and pooling onto the dirty floor to mix with the filthy water.

“I called for Fela, but she didn’t come.”

“She probably used up her power showing off,” Konrad muttered. “Just try to breathe Partick.”

Konrad placed his manacled hands on the wound, pressing down hard and willing it to close. He felt a heat rise under his palms but it wouldn’t increase. The flow of blood reduced but it had not stopped.

“Please,” he begged through gritted teeth. “Please work.”

He felt as though there was some kind of barrier inside himself that he couldn’t pass through. He instinctively knew that on the other side there was a well of healing that he couldn’t access.

He pushed harder, hammering at the barrier with his fists until suddenly it broke. The heat under his palms grew white hot, but his own body grew cold so fast he began to shiver. He realised at once what he had done, he was using his own health to heal Partick.

He tore his hands away but it was too late. His arms and legs flopped uselessly numb and he fell onto his back, cracking his head on the cold stone.

“What.. what did you do?” Partick’s voice sounded from far away.

“I might have taken that a little too far,” Konrad groaned.

“I’ve never seen Fela do anything like that.”

Partick was inspecting his arm with a look of wonderment on his face.

“If you believe me then help me get out of here. Lyran is the god you should be serving. We have to destroy Fela.”

A bell rang far away.

“The temple has to open, she’ll know if I’m late.”

“Partick wait,” Konrad called but it was no use. The young priest had slammed the gate shut. The lock clicked and Konrad was too weak to get to his feet to stop him.

The footsteps of the priest disappeared and in the silence that followed a single falling rock clattered onto the floor of the cell opposite Konrad and rolled out into the dungeon. Then another rock fell, bouncing on the wet stone and hitting the bars with a clang. There was a moment of silence then the whole wall collapsed sending a cloud of fetid dust billowing out. Through the gloom Konrad spotted a dull lamp light and a dark shape stepped forward out of the hole in the rock, closely followed by another.