“So what's the plan?” Birger asked as he, Alex, and Bjorgrund strode into the laboratory. “How exactly are we going to get them here?”
“I’m sure they're going crazy trying to find us,” Alex grinned. “They’re probably turning over every rock around every spot they tracked us to, but truthfully, I don't really care what they’ve been doing: what matters to me is that they haven’t been able to find us, which means they’re probably as tired and desperate as we were.”
His smile widened. “Kind of appropriate, if you ask me. And what that means is that they’ll be more inclined to make mistakes when I act as bait.”
“What do you mean?” Bjorgrund asked.
“I'm going to leave the sanctum, and act like I'm looking for something.”
“Anything in particular?” the giant asked.
Alex frowned, thinking carefully. “That's what I'm trying to figure…oh! Oh. I have an idea,” he said. “Remember that old cave we found up in the mountains? The one with the mummified priest?”
“Yeah, the cave where they nearly caught us?” Bjorgrund asked. “I remember that. We’d busted a hole in the temple wall and found that dead priest with a bunch of treasure laid out around him. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”
“It’s true that the church nearly caught us there,” Birger said.
“That’s right,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they're watching that place like hawks: but in case they’re not…if I'm right about that fae tracking me by my name, if I show up there, he'll know, right?”
“Yeah and that's something I wanted to bring up,” Bjorgrund said. “Tracking you by your name using magic, can't you do the same thing? You're a wizard, and my father has magic.”
Alex shook his head. “Honestly, I have no idea how he’s doing it: my best guess is through some kind of strange fae magic, but I'm no expert on ‘strange fae magic’. My mentor, Baelin, would probably know how he's doing it: he knows almost everything, but I wouldn't even begin to be able to figure it out.”
“Neither would I,” Birger said.
“That's too bad,” Bjorgrund shook his head. “It'd be nice to turn the tables and track them for once.”
“We won't have to.” Alex smiled. “Like I said, we're going to bring them to us. The plan is for me to appear in that temple with some summoned monsters.”
“Like those elder elementals?” the young giant asked. “They’re powerful and you could use them to start smashing the church the second they find you. Actually, wait, that'd be stupid. If you start smashing them, they'll know something’s different with you.”
“Exactly,” Alex pointed at himself. “I'll have to stick to monsters I could summon before we got to the sanctum. I’ll be acting like I’m gathering the priest’s treasures, and taking them to the sanctum.”
“Good plan,” Birger said. “All those treasures in there…it makes sense we’d want them.”
“That’s right,” Alex said. “And when they show up, I'll act like I'm not surprised to see them, and that I expected them since I’ll have my monsters there to slow them down. It’ll give them plenty of time to see the portal.”
“What portal?” Bjorgrund asked.
“The one leading to the sanctum,” Alex said. “The thing is, they have no idea how we got here. So they'll have no idea that I can just teleport here whenever I want. If they see a portal that’s leading to the sanctum, there's a good chance they’ll assume that's my doorway in and out of here, and that I have to take it to get in.”
“They'll try to stop you with that holy soil,” Birger pointed out.
“I’m sure they will,” Alex said. “But I'm going to go through the portal before they can use their interdictions.”
“They won't use their interdiction to shut down your teleportation, they'll use it to keep the portal open, thinking you’re planning on closing it,” Birger reasoned.
Alex snapped his fingers and grinned. “Smart man! There's the wisdom of the ages for you.”
“Thanks…I think…” Birger said dryly.
Bjorgrund chuckled until a glare from his father silenced him.
“The other thing that’ll lure them in is that I'll make the doorway to the sanctum big enough for them to get a good look at the disfigured statue of Uldar in the entrance. If the desire to catch me doesn't bring them, then, seeing Uldar’s face all hacked up certainly will. Their blood’ll start boiling and they’ll be after me in no time.”
“Then we can finally get rid of those pests,” Birger said. “The traps will be ready for them.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“And I'll be waiting, ready to fight,” Bjorgrund said.
“Remember, hit and run tactics,” Alex said. “Your route has multiple pathways: if we could divide them by you hitting them, then sprinting away through one of the portals, all the better.”
“Divide and conquer,” Birger said.
“That’s the name of the game,” Alex said. “Alright, let's get into position. I've got tons of mana and lots of monsters to summon. After that’s done, I'll ring the dinner bell for our ‘guests’.”
----------------------------------------
The breakfast bell tolled outside Gabrian’s tent, it rustled in the frigid breeze blowing across the Lake of Ever Ice.
Inside, the First Apostle knelt naked on the ice, enduring the painful bite of the frozen lake on his skin. Suffering brought discipline.
They needed discipline more than ever, lately.
For a time, the church’s hunt for the Fool had looked as though it would be a quick and easy affair. They had ambushed him and his companions in the middle of an icy forest, and nearly slain him in the snow. He’d barely escaped with his life and, at the time, it had seemed like his end would be swift and inevitable.
Some of the devoted had even suggested that the Fool would be dead, and they would be home by Sigmus.
Yet, time had made fools of them all.
It had not been so kind.
For months, they had chased him, slowly tightening the net around him. At one point, it appeared they were mere days from catching him as he fled from place to place within the Irtyshenan Empire.
Then, without warning, he’d utterly disappeared.
Even the Stalker, the fae who could track him by name alone, had been stumped, unable to know his whereabouts. They had searched in vain, then watched the places where the Fool had searched for the sanctum of another, long dead Fool, named Kelda, and found nothing.
So they’d turned to other means of tracking him.
They had captured members of a thieves’ guild—the Guild of the Red Mouse—and the Stalker had tortured them. None were spared, and eventually one revealed what the Fool was looking for, along with the location of portals that Kelda had left around the Empire.
From there, they’d set some of their most gifted and wisest priests—including Izas, the Third Apostle, and Gabrian, the First Apostle—to the task of forcing the portal to lead them to the sanctum.
They had engaged every bit of spellcraft and divinity they knew, but no progress was ever made. The portal had remained stubborn, much like the Fool, defying them as surely as he had.
All that was left to do was employ another interdiction…
…but both Izas and Gabrian had been reluctant.
They were in a foreign land, one ruled by foreign deities, and if they attracted their attention, their wrath would soon follow.
The holy quest would fail.
Uldar did not reward the foolhardy, he rewarded the wise and strong.
Wisdom would suggest that they only use an interdiction when they were sure they had the Fool in hand. But—within the ranks—wisdom was starting to give way to impatience and doubt.
More and more of their number were openly wondering whether Uldar had turned his face from their quest. They questioned the competence of the fae who was leading them. Some had suggested that they must have angered their god in some way, and he was now denying them his blessing.
Izas and Gabrian had met this sort of talk with a mix of stern words and calming sermons. They pointed out the tales of Ferrus, Ilsar, and Jarn; three hunters who’d cast aside their faith in Uldar, and the god had sent a storm to flood the valley where they hunted. The hunters drowned, their prey lived.
Kinder tales told of the endurance of Anna—who had kept her faith during a pestilence that destroyed and wreaked havoc throughout her village. While her neighbours shook their fists at the sky and cursed Uldar, she prayed with respect and an open heart. The god had rewarded her, filling the brook near her cottage with a bounty of fish for her to sup upon.
Her faithless neighbours starved.
Still, though the holy warriors of the hidden church polished their armour and weaponry and prayed every morning and night, whispers of doubt continued. Even as they spoke their uneasy words with shame, they could not quite banish thoughts whispering that they had done something to anger their god.
Gabrian could only hope that they found their prey sooner, rather than later.
“Forgive them, my God. They know not what they say: they are so young, so unused to the trials of the world. They have grown up and lived in the shadow of your escapement, shielded from much of the evils of mortalkind. They are young: I have lived for centuries in your grace, and know your ways. I know when you withdraw your favour, and I know when you are simply telling us to abide, to keep faith, and endure.”
He lowered his head toward his clasped hands. “This is a time to cling to the latter, but many of our followers are too inexperienced to see the difference. Please do not judge them too harshly, simply lay your judgement at my feet. I am the sheep herder, meant to guide and lead your flock. If they wander, then the flaw is not with the sheep, but with their guide. If punishment must be given, deal that punishment to me.”
His eyes turned toward the roof of his tent and the heavens hidden beyond it. “But this humble servant asks of you, do not strike me down before I exact your justice upon the errant Fool. I beg of you, do not close my eyes before I see his shut. Let me see him slain, and the debt repaid for the destruction that he and his ilk have reaped upon your chosen people. Or perhaps…”
He shook his head, with a wry smile. “Perhaps I am not as old and wise as I think. Perhaps I should not pray for you to see him destroyed, or for your aid in breaking his body and spirit. Perhaps I should pray for a gentler solution: holy Uldar, reach out to this Fool, allow him to open his heart to you, and show him the error of his ways so he may return to your side. May the Heroes have their jolly Fool once more, and let the cycle continue as you will it.”
Gabrian fell silent, listening for any sign that Uldar had heard him.
Suddenly, the sound of a commotion reached him from outside, a clamour racing through the camp. The hidden priests were calling to each other, and holy warriors began blowing horns. Clinking armour and weapons being girded for war, announced preparations for battle.
Prayers of supplication rose in the air.
The First Apostle knew then that something had happened.
“Thank you!” he called to his god and leapt onto furs covering some of the ice-covered surface he’d been kneeling on. He quickly threw on his clothes, then called his armour to him using a single short prayer. Divine power saw his plate armour leave its stand and sheath him in an instant.
He belted the sword he’d used to fight the Ravener of his time to his waist.
He strapped on his shield as the tent flap was pulled open.
“Holy leader!” a priest called.
“Has the Fool been found?” Gabrian asked.
“No, holy leader,” the priest said, his face looking bewildered. “A Ravener-spawn has appeared at the western border of the camp, and claims it brings a message from a servant of Uldar!”