Lieutenant Braver led Sam and Grim to the front lobby to the mission. They stepped through the door to see the Sister that Sam was on Watch with standing in the center of the room. Her focus, a silver censer, was in hand, glistening with golden, magical light.
A sickly looking man in dirty street clothes was running at her, a crimson scarf tied around his forehead. He was yelling a battle cry, but was still feet from the priestess when the censer crashed into the side of his head, golden sparks went flying as he crashed to the floor.
“Sister, are you okay?” Braver shouted to her as she composed herself. Sam ran behind the desk to grab his hammer and shield when he noticed that the door to the mission was wide open. The outside of the threshold was charred, and thick black smoke was pouring in from outside.
The alarm bell came shrieking back into the lobby after having gone all around the offices, and silenced itself. The priestess looked up at the mission’s Lieutenant with sad eyes as the alarm’s strident cry was replaced by a worse chorus. From outside came a cacophony of pained screams.
“The Chael is happening, Diana?” Grim shouted.
“They came out of nowhere,” the priestess said. “It seemed like such a normal night, but suddenly, this riot broke out.”
“And they’re burning things?” Braver asked her.
“Purple Magic, sir,” she said, using the slang term for the Wrath Liches’ blending magic. “Wrath magic. But they don’t know how to use it. That man” Diana said, looking down at the man she struck. “He was the only one to survive their first charge.”
Grim’s armor flashed with a golden aura as he began to walk to the door. The vanguard lifted his shield and the golden light quickly spread across it as well, growing brighter as he approached the opened double doors to the mission. Thick, oily smoke was clouding the view immediately across the threshold, and pockets of the cloud flickered an ominous red. The smell of burning pitch with an extra magical tinge that burned the sinuses gave away that the flames were courtesy of the liches.
“How many were out there?” Braver asked Diana.
“No idea, sir. Sam, how many protesters were on the street in front when you came in?”
“I ran into one down the street, none in the square. They had to have set up after I came inside,” he said, watching Grim walk closer. There was a gust of hot wind that took the breath from the group in the lobby, and sent a spike of hot pain across Sam’s scared torso. In the doorway, it looked as though Grim’s aura was failing as he walked closer. Sam looked to Lieutenant Braver, who looked sickly and nervous.
“Private, get away from the door!” Brother Nathan shouted as he, Maribel, Shiner, and several other personnel from the mission ran into the lobby. The paladins were armed, and the priests each held their foci, including Brother Nathan. He, too, carried a censer, but his was much larger and more ornate than Diana’s. “Sister Diana, get that blood off of your censer. It is clear to me we need to push at least to the stairs to get a read on what we are facing. You and I will put up a barrier.”
“Yes, Brother,” Diana said with a nod. She gripped the golden chain of her censer and the basket flashed with a white light. The blood of the man she struck disintegrated.
Brother Nathan turned to a priest and paladin who had come into the room behind him. “The two of you shall remain in this lobby and inform those lagging behind that we shall fortify the mission as my group goes forward. We will let you know before any further moves are made.” The two nodded in understanding and Brother Nathan turned to the larger group.
“Gather up and receive your blessings,” he commanded. The eight or so men and women, including Braver, Sam, Maribel, and Shiner clustered together with Brother Nathan on one side and Sister Diana on the other.
Sam carefully watched the nervous Lieutenant, who seemed in a daze. The priest that was technically lower ranking in the mission was seizing the moment and Braver was taking his orders like everyone else. So Sam did as well.
There was a sweet and pleasant smell from the two priests’ censers as Brother Nathan began to pray. “Oh Dreamer, Great God of Civilization, a manor in your honor stands besieged by the Wrath of Dorvan this day. Your children of culture and law stand with you to defend that manor. Please, Dreamer, empower us not with the acid of vengeance, but instead with the wines of righteousness.”
Suddenly, Sam’s muscles swole larger than any priest or confidant blessing he had ever received. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their armor except for Shiner who chuckled at his newfound strength.
“Amen,” Diana added, sending a pulse of strength through everyone again.
“And, Dreamer, look now upon your valiant brothers, sisters, vanguards, and confidants as we walk into the flames of wrath to protect your gift to the world. Defend us as we walk, and keep us safe from the heat of Dorvan’s rage.”
“Amen.”
There was a sound like a sudden gust of wind and a translucent golden dome surrounded the party.
“Finally, Dreamer, calm our minds so that as we march, we march in faith that your Will is Well.”
“Amen.”
The fragrance of the censers grew even stronger and Sam found himself calmed despite the chaos and confusion. The pain in his chest subsided.
“Alright, Children of Gessel, march,” Brother Nathan ordered. And Sam watched as Lieutenant Braver followed the order, and so he did as well.
The ground rumbled and the inky cloud ahead surged with red light, and the temperature inside the dome rose slightly. Behind the group, the two defenders left behind began to cough loudly, but the smoke and embers from the attack simply parted to make way for the advancing dome of gold magic.
The group moved silently out onto the stairs in front of the mission, and once outside, Brother Nathan and Sister Diana stepped further out to spread the size of the dome.
As the thick black smoke was pushed back, Sam heard Maribel swear under her breath, and saw Shiner turn his head away with a look of disgust. As the dome grew, more and more of two charred bodies began to be revealed on the soot covered staircase. The corpses’ skin was a mess of blisters and blackened flesh.
“Brother Nathan,” Maribel shouted over to him. “I think the flames are from people burning.”
The priest said nothing at first. His silence allowed them all to hear the sounds of shouting in the square immediately ahead. “There are still rioters in the smoke. They must be squelched or they’ll burn all of Back City.”
Sam looked down at the burned bodies. One had a crimson headband now burned into its head’s flesh. The other was still hooded by smoldering tatters of a red cowl. These were the unprofessional casters that he had been warned of. He looked at Lieutenant Braver, who was readying his self-blessings and unsheathing his sword.
“Sir, these are the untrained wrath magic users. They aren’t doing this on purpose. I think we should get the smoke out of here so we can get a good read on who is out there still and who has killed themselves.” Sam did his best to stay quiet and out of Brother Nathan’s earshot, but the crackling of fire and screams of rioters demanded volume.
“Brother Nathan has given his orders,” Braver replied, almost defeated. “So let’s get ready to fight, Corporal.”
Sam looked down at the corpses again, the pain in his chest beginning to flare up again despite the fragrance of the incense. When he looked up again, he saw Shiner and Maribel looking at him.
“He’s right, sir,” Maribel said with a nod. “We don’t need to be killing if we don’t need to be.”
“What was that, sister?” Brother Nathan called. Suddenly, the rabble of paladins preparing themselves for battle quieted.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Myself and Corporal Bleedingheart think it would be more prudent to remove the smoke and assess the battlefield before charging in blindly.”
Brother Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “And how would you do that, Sister?”
“Well, you could cast a downdraft over the square and try to force the smoke out down the side streets. We would have to plug the tunnel to keep from smoking out the Great Hall, but I think it would clear it up. At least some,” Sam realized too late that he had begun talking. And failed, as well, to notice Brother Nathan’s visible annoyance and Braver’s shame.
“We can use the window’s over Madge’s, and the building across the square from her,” Shiner added with a nod.
Brother Nathan bristled. “And I suppose you will want Diana and myself to stay here, Corporal?” His use of Sam’s rank came across more insulting than respectful. As though it were a punctuation mark reminding him of his place.
“I…” Lieutenant Braver began meekly. “I think it is worth trying. After all, the days of killing for a misuse of magic are long behind the Church, are they not, Brother?”
Brother Nathan huffed. “Fine. Play your games. You get fifteen minutes, Lieutenant, and then the rest of us charge. I will contact the tunnel watch to plug the path.” The priest turned back to tend to the censer.
“I think you two have a great idea,” Braver said, finding something like confidence on this side of Nathan’s approval. “Sam, Maribel, you go to Madge’s. Shiner and I will go to the building across. I think it’s a tenement.”
“Yes, sir,” the three young warriors responded. The four took a moment to bless each other with auras strong enough to brave the smoke, and also get their blessings from Brother Nathan and Sister Diana reaffirmed. Then, Maribel and Sam stepped off to the left side of the stairs while Braver and Shiner went right.
“You ready, Bleedingheart?” Maribel asked.
“Think so,” he said, looking down at the decorative scare on his chestplate. “Have you had to, you know, defend the faith before?”
“Nope,” she said, gripper her scepter. “I would follow your lead, but, I’m not sure that’s wise!” Maribel smiled playfully as she nodded to the scar.
Sam grinned, and took his first step into the smoke. Even with the aura around him, he could not see far in front of him, and every breath stung of soot and heat.
Dreamer, let me see something. Sam’s prayer was answered instantly as a golden light spilled from within his own eyes, surging the young paladin with mana and strength, and cutting partially through the smoke. He looped his warhammer back onto his belt and looked behind him to see Maribel looking around frantically.
When she saw the light from his eyes, she stopped, surprised. Sam reached for her hand and began pulling her along toward Madge’s restaurant. With every step it seemed as though the smoke became thicker and the air became hotter. The pair were stumbling over sticks and stones as they ran, but when Maribel tripped, Sam stopped to help her to her feet.
It was then he made the dreadful realization that the rubbish they were tripping over were even more burned corpses. In the short advance they had made from the stairs, Sam could make out five bodies.
“We have to keep moving!” he shouted to Maribel. She looked up into his shining eyes, said nothing, and only nodded.
Only a few further steps and the heat slowly began to subside. By the time they had reached Madge’s only six doors down from the mission, Sam was able to see enough in the smoke without the lights from his eyes to cut them off. The two ran toward Madge’s storefront, clattering across the metal seats and tables on the patio in the front, and went for the door.
Knowing that all of his training would have told him to check the door and see if there was fire or activity on the other side, but one look at the distressed priestess behind him, and his own choking on hot ash, sent him crashing through Madge’s wooden front door.
Inside, it was like another world. The smoke had only just begun to permeate the building, and its brickwork walls had insulated it from much of the heat.
“You didn’t check the door,” Maribel chastised between relieved, heaving gasps.
“Give me a break,” Sam muttered, catching his own breath.
“I’m only kidding, Sam,” Maribel said with a grin.
“Sneaky sneaky Church folk!” shouted a voice from the doorway. A woman stepped in from the smoke, decked in crimson robes with a tall, pointed hat to match. “Crashing and smashing your way through hard workers’ property to just save your skins!”
“Careful Sam,” Maribel warned. “Looks like she may be a real Wrath Lich.”
“Real as they come, Sister,” the woman held up her two hands and let lose a roaring shriek. There was a sudden surge of heat as her hands, like a hose, began unleashing a spray of liquid fire.
Let me defend her from this Sam prayed silently. His shield let loose a golden light as the paladin dove between the Lich’s attack and Sister Maribel. The flames sloshed against the aura and the metal, splashing off in every possible direction. Most of it burned away to nothing as it struck the cool stone floor, but the risk of the wooden furniture catching was real.
As the heat from the fire poured over Sam, the scar in his chest seemed to burn more and more. He remembered the young man at Elmsmith that took advantage of his mercy. He thought of all of the angry, but otherwise innocent men and women who were misled by this woman and her sect. He did not know why, but he began to think of the lives those men and women had led, and how the Wrath Liches got to know them. Got to know their families. And still forced them to make this sacrifice.
Sam did not realize he was walking toward the Wrath Lich at first, but when he noticed just how close he was, he steadied his grip on his shield with both hands. With a roar, he thrust toward the caster and felt metal hit something.
Strength, Dreamer. I need strength. Sam roared again, surging forward. The woman shrieked in pain as Sam forced her to the floor. Once she was forced down and her wrath flames began spilled around her, Sam dove away. Looking back, the crimson-cloaked woman lay amongst puddles of fire, her robes beginning to catch as well. Her right arm, Sam assumed it was where his shield had connected, was crumpled against her torso.
“Bastard!” she cried, slinging her good arm in Sam’s direction, casting as she did. Another surge of heat as a splash of flames came his way.
There was a whip crack as a golden rope from Maribels scepter wrapped around the Wrath Lich’s forearm. Maribel yanked the witch toward her and with a grunt, the woman fell face first onto the stone, then went silent.
“Thank you, Sister,” Sam said as he stood.
“Oh, thank you, Corporal,” she said, with a slight bow as the golden rope disappeared. Maribel looked to the Wrath Lich, seeing her torso rise and fall slightly. “We need to get upstairs, now. I’m starting to think Brother Nathan had the right idea.”
“Right,” Sam said, as he looked around the restaurant. Fires were still smouldering. Definitely dangerous, but he felt it may be more important to help the mission. A thin set of stairs went up the back of the restaurant, the first steps blocked off by a wooden “Please Do Not Enter” sign. “Sorry Madge,” Sam muttered as he grabbed his warhammer and smashed through the rope.
The paladin and priestess ran up the stairs to a door. This time, Sam took the time to check. The wooden door was cool to the touch and no sounds came from inside.
“Sounds good,” he said to Maribel.
“Great, let’s go, Sam.”
Sam pushed the door open into Madge’s home. It was modestly furnished with thin wooden chairs and a plush fabric loveseat in the apartment’s living room. There was a wall of windows that looked out over the Back City square with large fabric curtains pulled over them.
Looking around to make sure Madge was not going to show up and suddenly protest the act, Sam and Maribel made their way to one of the windows. Maribel quickly drew the curtains and the two saw outside.
Only half the square, the side closest to the mission, was accosted by smoke and flames. In the dusty, soot covered half that was otherwise clear, a handful of figures stood, raising their hands and slinging liquid flame haphazardly into the smoke when they could.
As they watched, their attention was suddenly captured by a flash of light from across the square. Someone in the window of one of the buildings immediately across from them was signaling with a bright golden light.
“Break the window for me,” Maribel said. “They’re ready.” She held up her scepter and the head of it began to glow gold in reply to Shiner and Braver.
Sam used his warhammer to smash through the window. “Sorry again, Madge.”
“We’ll give her a gold slip,” the priestess said as she moved into the window sill. “Now Sam, I should warn you, I’m no good at elemental magic.”
“That’s the best part, Sister,” Sam responded. “I do not think it matters what you are good at, right? Just what Gessel needs you to do?”
Maribel smiled over her shoulder to Sam. “You’re right.” She look back over the square. “Dreamer,” she began. “Your manor is under affliction. Please, allow me to summon a cleansing wind. A strong, purifying gust to grant us better understanding of this crime so we may address it according to your Will. Amen.”
Maribel lowered her hands. And for a short eternity, nothing happened. Then, the whole structure began to tremble. The curtains whipped to and fro as miniature whirlwinds tore through the apartment. Outside, the smoke of the Wrath Lich attack was being swept up in a cyclone. Hot red flashes of light flickered within the twister as refuse was slung around. Suddenly, Sam could clearly see the defenders at the mission looking up at the tornado just the same.
Once the cyclone had vacuumed up all of the smoke, it erupted as though it was releasing an intense pressure, and sent gusts of smoke-filled wind surging down the streets of the Back City.
“Dreamer.” Maribel muttered under her breath. Sam was speechless. Without the thick, foul smoke, they could see clearly. In the street below them, smouldering in the liquid flames of wrath magic was a mound of torched bodies.