The thrumming of his heart and the shuffling and clinking of steel against marble pierced the sounds of the wheezing, labored breathing of the unconscious Archmage. The young man chided himself for not bringing his halberd to the temple, as his only weapon was a plain dagger on his belt. He instinctively reached out to the entity within him, yet he could not find purchase on his concept. The beast appeared to be bound, deep within his being, and the attempt to rouse his Avatar left him feeling as if he was trying to draw water from a dry well.
Kieran sighed with slumped shoulders, causing the old man’s head to bobble between himself and the bearded young man. Ben felt several powerful auras outside the room, and a cold sweat began to form on his brow. The Keeper absently reached to her scarred chest above her breasts, to where the copper palm pendant had been, before withdrawing her hand and turning to face the young man.
“My heart,” she spoke in a low whisper, “the men outside are War Clerics. Hardened Warrior-Casters, forged during the Great Invasion several years ago. I advise against a direct confrontation as I cannot call upon the Martyr in this place.” Ann paused as she met his gaze, brows slanted in uncertainty. “Yet if you will it so, I will fight.”
Ben’s brows furrowed at his Keeper’s words. “Ann-” he began.
“It’s no use,” Kieran interrupted. “Not in the temple, at least; their magic is amplified on these grounds. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Then we’ll talk. Tell them what happened,” Ben said before he heard an impact and turned to see the broken door swing open with such force that it crashed against the marble wall and rebounded to close again.
He glimpsed a brown-haired, tall, broad-shouldered woman in mirror-polished steel armor with a flowing white and gold cloak. The scowl on her face was made comical by her raised foot and the rapidly slamming door. A grunt of frustration was heard, and battered wood on hinges swung open once more.
“Knight Commander, they’re kidnapping the Archmage!” the burly woman exclaimed in a deep, coarse voice, with an ornate war hammer pointed at the party. Her head was turned to address someone outside the room, and as she faced the party again, her eyes narrowed at the tall, handsome Caster. “Master Jaste?” she said in a tone that betrayed confusion.
“Yolanda…” Kieran hesitated. Black eyes darted between the limp form of the old Necromancer and the large woman. “I know what this looks like-”
“Lieutenant, step aside,” spoke a mature, dry voice.
Yolanda complied and stepped back from the doorway to reveal a tall yet slightly shorter scarred man with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard in the same excessively polished steel armor. His cloak, however, was a deep purple, no doubt denoting a superior rank, Ben thought. The middle-aged man had an exquisite golden mace on his hip and a contrastingly plain poleaxe held lightly in one hand. He stepped before the doorway and paused at the scene before him. His brow furrowed.
“Kieran? What’s going on here? And who are these people?” he said with brows raised and in a rising tone that spoke of the degree to which he was surprised to find the dubiously human, red-haired man in such an incriminating act.
“Master Dabre, I know this may seem… questionable at best.” Kieran paused and grimaced as he appeared to formulate his words. “We’re taking Master Durrene home. I believe that it would be in his best interests.”
The Knight Commander remained motionless for a few heartbeats before his expression settled into a frown. The middle-aged man looked down toward his clenched, gauntleted fist and hesitated before turning to address the burly woman outside the room. “Lieutenant,” he said, and Yolanda stood to attention, back straight, feet together. “I’ll handle the rest here. Take the men, and please see that the High Priest has been tended to.”
“Yes, Knight Commander,” replied the woman without missing a beat before she turned and relayed the orders in a bark.
A shuffle and clinking of steel accompanied the woman’s departure. The middle-aged man closed what remained of the door and leaned with his back against it after finding that it was on its last legs. He folded his arms and regarded the party with a narrow gaze.
“I got a report that hooligans have stormed the temple and assaulted the High Priest.” He paused as his gaze met the Caster’s black eyes. “Care to elaborate on whatever… this is?” the Knight Commander said as he gestured with a flick of his chin.
Kieran hesitated, the Archmage still held aloft by the pair of young men. The War Cleric gestured that they lay the old man down on the cot, which Ben was glad to do. The red-haired man spoke with resolve.
“I’ve come to believe that my Master’s safety has been compromised, and High Priest Xavier seems complicit.”
The Knight sighed and shook his head with closed eyes. “Listen, Kieran.” He opened his eyes to regard the Caster once more. “You know me and my men are only here for the Tear in the Fringe. I don’t have time for squabbles and accusations; our duty is to defend Iorilai’s people from the Dark.” Another pause. “In saying that, I can’t exactly disregard the assault. Especially against the head of this city’s clergy… Regardless of the goodwill you’ve gained with me.”
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The red-haired Caster shook his head and raised his hands before him, palms facing upward. “It’s true; I swear-” he began, exasperated, before being interrupted by a cleared throat.
“Knight Commander, I can attest to the fact that the High Priest used an Aura of manipulation to cloud our thoughts upon inquiring after the Archmage,” Ann spoke with an even tone.
The Cleric turned to the short blonde woman, and his frown intensified. He retrieved a small glass disc from a leather belt pouch and held it to his eye as he regarded the woman. His eyes went wide. “Who are you?” he asked, stunned at what the glass revealed about the Keeper.
“If we were to follow propriety, it would be you who should introduce yourself first.” She paused and sent a questioning glance toward Ben.
Huh? I guess she won’t continue unless I affirm? Give leave to speak?
Ben felt his gut twist as he recalled his earlier revelations concerning the Keeper. He nodded if only to spare her more confusion.
Ann continued: “However, time is of the essence, so we shall dispense with formalities for now.” She paused, and Ben felt the familiar aura that commanded respect and deference, not to be mistaken with an Aura, he thought. “I am a Keeper, formerly a Priestess of Illephre. As you know, the Order of Speakers specializes in a very particular branch of Aura magic. I was a Master on the cusp of Grand Master before beginning my pilgrimage, so I am the pre-eminent subject matter expert in this region,” Ann said matter-of-factly, without a trace of hubris.
Mr. Dabre, the Knight Commander, stared at the short woman in a long flowing robe with a furrowed brow. “I can’t deny that you have power… and if you’re companions of Master Jaste here, then I have no reason to doubt your word.” He shook his head and placed a hand on his chin. “A Keeper in a temple of Iorilai. I think I’ve seen it all,” he muttered to himself before addressing the party. “However, my code prevents me from telling untruths, so please bear with me as I ask you a few questions under Oath.”
The Knight placed his poleaxe against the wall next to the door and removed a gauntlet from his left hand before touching his temple with two fingers. He whispered a chant: “My Goddess, grant me sight to see deceit. Caress my ears so that I may hear untruths. Guide my hand so that I may mete out your justice to the wicked and the guilty- Oath of Truth.”
Ben felt the familiar prickle on his skin, and the man’s eyes brightened with a golden light.
Master Dabre addressed the party, voice seemingly deeper than before.
“Did you and your companions storm the Temple?” he asked.
Ben frowned at the loaded question, yet Kieran spoke up, simply replying: “No.”
The Knight Commander nodded and continued. “Did you assault the High Priest upon your arrival at the Temple?” The pointed gaze of the man suggested that the question was asked directly to the red-haired Caster and excluded any input from Ben and Ann.
“No,” Kieran replied.
“Do you believe relocating Archmage Jared Durrene is in his best interests?”
“Yes.”
Master Dabre dipped his head, and the radiant light faded from his dark brown eyes. “That’s all. Now, I suggest you be on your way. We’re leaving for the stronghold in two days, so I won’t be here to shield you from that snake,” he approached Kieran and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look after yourself, young one. Yolanda and I will come and say our goodbyes on the eve of our departure, don’t die until then.”
The red-haired caster smiled tightly and dipped his head in thanks. “Thank you, Master Dabre,” he said, tone soft and genuine.
The Knight Commander nodded to Ben and faced Ann. “Keeper,” he said before he turned and left the room.
“Let’s go,” Kieran said without ceremony, and he gestured to the sleeping form of the old man.
The two young men hefted the Archmage up and slung his arms over their shoulders. The party left the temple unimpeded, as the nave was as empty as it had been upon their arrival. Once they were a few blocks from the temple, Ben turned his head to regard Kieran on the opposite end of the limp Archmage.
“So, how do you know the War Cleric? And what put him in your debt?” Ben asked.
“Ah, Master Dabre?” the red-haired man asked rhetorically. “I met him by chance near the Shattered Grotto, about two days outside of Honeydew, while harvesting,” he paused to greet a pair of City Guards who were seemingly unbothered that a woman walked with two young men who carried a limp old man between them. “I made camp with him and his lance of five. Agreeable enough people once you get to know them. I noticed he was missing his right hand, so naturally, I offered to make him a construct to repay him for supper.”
“A construct? What’s that?” Ben asked.
“A Necromantic construct. I was harvesting parts for my thesis, and I just so happened to have a spare hand in my haul,” Kieran said nonchalantly.
“You were harvesting corpses?” Ben’s eyes widened at the thought.
“Well, yes. The Tear had begun to expand, and the migrations passed through many remote settlements. It was an opportunity I could not let slip me by.”
Ben felt his headache return and decided he had learned enough from Kieran for the day.
Kieran led them for what felt like an hour through the winding streets of the pastel-colored city to what Ben thought was another nondescript, pink stone house on the opposite end of the city from Red Maiden’s Trinkets and Baubles.
The Caster reached in his pocket and revealed a large iron key, which he unlocked the front door with and indicated with a tilt of his head for the party to enter. The main living area was cluttered with scrolls and books, and Ben sneezed as thick dust was made airborne by a chilly gust of autumn wind. Several small tables and chairs were haphazardly scattered around the room. Ben saw a neglected hearth surrounded by large pillows, stained by numerous drinks if the empty bottles were anything to go by.
At Kieran’s direction, the young men took Master Durrene to a surprisingly neat bedroom. A stark contrast to the chaos of parchment, books, and other odds and ends in the living room. The red-haired Caster indicated they should lay the old man down on the clean bed and motioned for Ben to follow him back to the house's central area.
“Ben… Could I ask you to stay here for a while?” Kieran asked, tone heavy.
“Sure. I was meant to meet up with Ainsle later, but… I could use a little rest myself.”
The tall, handsome man hesitated for a heartbeat. “I meant for a day or two…”
“Ah.”
Kieran nodded and patted Ben’s shoulder before quickly leaving via the front door.
Ben felt a soft hand on his lower back, and he turned to face a smiling Ann. “Perhaps it would be wise to ensure Master Durrene’s safety until we discover what happened to him.”
The young man sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Besides, it’d be best if I’m here when he wakes up anyways.”
“And we can spend some time alone together.” The Keeper said as she chewed her lip and met his gaze with soft blue eyes.