For the first time in many years—many centuries in truth—the First Apostle was divided.
When he’d least expected it, a crossroads had appeared before him. For months, his only purpose had been to hunt down the Fool while keeping his followers focused. Their order had survived by being of singular purpose, always serving their god’s will, not questioning or wavering along the path.
Gabrian was a contemplative man by nature, leaving the philosophical questions of interpreting the signs of the world to other members of the clergy. He would let folk like Tobias Jay sit and debate whether or not the turn of a leaf was a sign that Uldar would grant a good crop year, or a bad one in any given year.
It was not his job to question, but merely to serve and guide.
To that point, his task had always been easy to remain true to. The First Apostle had spent most of his time in contemplation within Uldar’s Rise, giving orders to those that followed him, directing them to serve their deity’s will.
This had left him free to seek spiritual perfection, growing closer to the divine.
Even now, during this terrible time where their home had been assailed—and taken from them—he was free to be of singular purpose. All he had to do was keep the faith and guide others to do the same.
Things though, were different now.
A crossroads stretched out before him, one he could not ignore. Down one path lay salvation and the fulfilment of Uldar’s will, while down the other, destruction awaited.
For a time, he considered dividing his forces, seeking both the death of the Fool and the protection of Uldar’s doorway.
He quickly dismissed the notion.
Although he had often dispatched numerous agents to accomplish varied tasks in the past, in a time as dire as this, Uldar’s followers had to stay together, united. At another time, one not so long ago, there were a multitude of agents to fulfil Uldar’s will. Now, those numbers had withered.
Many of their best agents—like Eldin—were either dead, or deeply embedded in various institutions within the realm.
Gabrian simply did not have the numbers to divide his forces and still expect to complete both tasks well: he and Izas would both be needed to destroy the Fool.
The First Apostle’s speed, power, and might were necessary to chop the head off the snake; the Fool was wily, he was full of vicious tricks, and had gathered allies of not insignificant power.
While Uldar had granted his followers many gifts, Gabrian was no fool; the ancient Chosen knew well that—had he not been personally involved in the ambush of the Fool, the woman, the two giants, the cerberus, and the golem—the attack might have ended disastrously for the hidden church.
He also had little doubt that the Fool had amassed even more tricks now, making it necessary for him to be present to ensure the man's death.
Izas could not be spared either.
The Third Apostle would be needed to perform the interdiction to stop the Fool from escaping using the infernal Traveller’s power he was so fond of.
He and Izas must remain together to destroy their enemy.
Would they also not need their full strength to shatter the guards that held Uldar’s doorway? To have leadership focused on the Fool, and send only the rank and file to defeat the interlopers that now defiled Uldar’s Rise, was to invite ruin.
Such an ill-conceived decision would welcome failure in both tasks.
The First Apostle was accepting this truth, there was no way around it: he would have to keep his people together, guiding them down a single pathway of the crossroads at a time.
The Chosen of Uldar lifted his eyes to the sky, seeking final signs to guide his decision. No whispered truths came on the wind. No hidden messages in the water below its frozen surface.
Uldar was determined not to make things easy.
Gabrian was certain he was facing a trial, one no doubt, sent by their god to test both his faith and wisdom.
“And what would the wise and faithful choose?” he whispered.
On the one hand, allowing outsiders to hold the doorway to their god was the ultimate blasphemy. Every moment they were there was an affront to all of Thameish blood and Uldarite faith.
On the other hand, there was the Fool. A dangerous man, a contagious evil, spreading faithlessness and insubordination to the Heroes and others. He was also more than that: a herald, bringing outsiders in to strengthen the enemies of Uldar, a serpent, one abiding among the blades of grass—hidden from righteous eyes—until he was ready to strike, when he could wreak the most havoc.
Every heartbeat he remained alive increased the danger to their holy purpose.
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He must be stopped.
The question was, which task was of the most immediacy? Which task was closer to their holy purpose?
It was difficult to know what his god wished for him to do.
The word ‘temptation’ played in his mind. It was tempting to go home, to meet with his god at long last, to destroy those spitting on his holy land. It was tempting to return home, to the comfort and familiarity of Uldar’s Rise. It was tempting to embrace Uldar’s Light and rebuild what their enemies had so thoroughly destroyed.
What was not tempting was to stay here in this cold, foreign land.
What was not tempting was to be perpetually hiding from the prying eyes of foreign deities.
What was not tempting, was to prolong their time away from home in order to hunt one single, filthy, Fool.
But, were these things not an answer in themselves?
He thought of his own earlier words.
His order was not to be the guardians of Uldar. Their god was mighty, wise, sage, and the arbiter of justice. Why would he tolerate outsiders holding his doorway unless he wanted it to be that way?
He was a god who had calmed natural disasters, wiped the first Ravener from the world, and struck fear in all of Thameland’s enemies. Had he wanted to, he could have destroyed the Ravener forever if his holy will were not to continue the cycle until his mysterious plan reached its end.
Uldar needed no protector; to assume that mere mortals could protect their god from anything he could not destroy himself, was ultimate arrogance.
Yes, no foreign wizards would escape Uldar’s wrath, unless he wished for them to do so.
To return and claim to protect him now, grovelling before him empty-handed while the Fool still ran amok throughout the world…yes, that would be the path that led to destruction
That was the trap!
To rush to Uldar’s side would not be to fulfil his purpose: it would be the act of a child returning to their father, seeking comfort. And they were not children. They were initiated. They were tied to Uldar’s hidden purposes.
And to abandon one of those purposes now: that would indeed be blasphemy!
At last, Gabrian had his answer: he knew what he was meant to do.
“Children of Uldar!” he called. “Let not the temptation of comfort and aid destroy your strength of purpose! Nor the desire for the warmth of home and Uldar’s light dissuade you from completing the task that was long laid out for us!”
He cast a flight spell on himself, rising high above the dedicated.
A nimbus of divine power surrounded him, drawing every eye in the encampment to the First Apostle’s glowing form.
His people looked up at him, seeking his guidance, his wisdom.
“We have been given a trial today, one that we came very close to failing! We are being called home, but do not hear this song of comfort and think that returning to Uldar’s Rise would be anything but a selfish choice,” he said sternly. “Our god is more than capable of protecting his interests, and if outsiders currently stand before his doorway, then he must be allowing them to do so! We would return to his side only to be reprimanded like disobedient children, for we would have left his enemy to run wild In the world while we gathered ourselves to his bosom!”
He shook his head. “We should return and greet him only with victory singing from our lips, not with excuses, not with begging and failure! That is not our way! It has never been the way of our order!” He gestured to the Ravener-spawn. “Our god’s messenger has stated that we must return to commune with Uldar, but also that our quarry must not be left free! Both tasks are necessary! And we are on the cusp of fulfilling the one we have committed ourselves to for so long, why would we abandon it now? On the day we kill the Fool of Thameland, then and only then will we return to commune with our god and retake our home!”
“It is a sign!” a holy warrior cried. “Our living god has brought the Fool to us! Our holy leader is right! Let's return to his bosom in victory!”
“In his name! For his glory!” the hidden church members chanted.
The First Apostle floated down to the ice, his attention on Uldar’s messenger. “Is this acceptable?”
The creature looked confused. “Both tasks are important…this one does not know which should be done first. The Usurper is closer to this place than our homeland, so perhaps this makes sense.”
“You hear that?” the Stalker laughed, returning to his jolly self. “The messenger of Uldar says it makes sense! Is that good enough for your purposes, my hounds? Now, hurry up before our prey gets away!”
“Be patient, like we have been,” Gabrian said, his heart light at last. “If the Fool has remained in one place since we began our deliberation, then that means he will be there longer. Uldar has provided us with this opportunity, he would not take it away so quickly. Is that not right, Izas?”
“Yes…” the Third Apostle said hesitating, his voice low and his face troubled.
“What is the matter?” the First Apostle asked.
“You are sure of this, holy leader?” the bearded man asked, looking older and tireder.
“I am,” Gabrian said.
“And you are a better man than I,” Izas said. “Within me, doubt still screams. Doubt stemming from my own past misdeeds. Holy leader, I remember when I first heard of these outsiders entering our realm: I had spoken with you and Eldin about them, and it was decided that we should not drive them out.”
He sucked a breath through his teeth. “Not a night goes by that I do not regret that decision. Had I counselled you and ordered Eldin to disrupt them, perhaps we would have found the Fool earlier. Perhaps he would be dead now, or have rejoined Uldar’s ranks. The lost lamb, Carey London, would not be dead, our home would not be destroyed, and we would be by our god’s side even now. Now, something new has emerged…and once again, we find ourselves ignoring it to put our minds to another task.”
“We are not ignoring it Izas, but rather prioritising our holy work first,” the First Apostle said.
“I know, and that is why you are a better man than I. I cannot see my own path ahead of me, not past my earlier failures. I will trust in your decision, even as I dissuade myself from doubting,” he said. “But I am only an old man, holy leader, and I am tired, and I am worried, and I am fearful. I only pray that we are doing the right thing.”
“We are,” Gabrian assured him. “We are. We are avoiding a trap, and stepping onto the right path.”
Izas gave the First Apostle a startled look. He threw his head back and laughed; his mirth was bitter.
Gabrian's eyebrows rose in surprise. “What's this?”
“Nevermind, holy leader,” the bearded old man said. “You reminded me of something, is all.”
“And what is that?”
“Something Eldin used to say. By Uldar, I miss him,” he smiled wryly. “He often said that in his old work, people would lay traps as a means to an end. There were deadly traps, and traps meant to merely capture. There were traps of all sorts, but he said that only one thing separated a good trap from a bad one.”
“What was that?” the Stalker asked, suddenly interested.
“Well,” Izas said. “Only one simple thing: a bad trap was a trap one could see. A good trap was one its target never recognized until it was much too late to avoid.”
“Well, then that portal at the top of Uldar’s Rise was a bad trap, seeing as how I recognised it and all,” the fae said simply.
“Perhaps it was,” Izas said softly. “Perhaps it was.”