Quiet. The path and surrounding trees leading up to the temple of Illephrre were covered in a thin blanket of snow, painting the forested mountain area as an almost serene vista. The scene before the young man felt… odd, and the sheer lack of sound or activity only amplified the unease. He heard his Keeper gasp, and he turned to her. Ann held both hands tightly covering her mouth, her soft blue eyes were wide, and her brows were raised in what appeared to be shock.
“Ainsle,” Ben began before the old Berserker subtly shook her head. He held his tongue and tilted his head questioningly at his mentor.
The hairs on his neck rose and he felt a tingle in his throat as Kieran muttered a spell under his breath. “Detect fallen,” he incanted, eyes closed before his brows furrowed. “There aren’t any corpses within thirty paces.” He paused to regard Ainsle with an upturned palm. “Aunt, any idea what this means? The last time Father and I made the pilgrimage here, I was but a boy, so I’m afraid my knowledge is somewhat limited.”
The Berserker grunted. “The Keepers don’t part with their trinkets so easily. It’s like a badge of rank in the church.” She turned her head to Ann, who stood motionless with the same expression of shock or disbelief. “Right, Sunshine?”
The blonde woman flinched at the address, and her attention snapped to the old woman. She hesitated before speaking with a slow, measured tone. “Yes, Acolytes wear copper, Priestesses wear silver, and Gold is reserved for the High Priestesses or Keepers of Illephrre. Something must’ve happened… I don’t know.” She met Ben’s gaze with slanted brows.
He bit his lip as he recalled the pendant she wore to be copper, yet the impression she had given him was that her rank was higher than Acolyte. “Besides the worst case, could they have discarded or given them away?” Ben said, although he leaned toward the more morbid of possibilities.
Ann shook her head. “We are taught that the pendant allows us to communicate with our God when away from temples and altars. More practically, the hand that shapes is a symbolic ward against those who would harm us —for to harm a Priestess is to invite the wrath of our God. A Priestess willingly giving up their pendant is… beyond my understanding.”
“Yup. Figured as much,” Ainsle said casually as she shrugged and tilted her head up the path. “June, lover boy, and I will scout up ahead. There’s a pilgrim’s pavilion around that bend if Ol’ Ain’s memory hasn’t gone to shit. The fuckers, whoever they are, might still be inside, so we’d best take a rest before storming the front door.” Kieran nodded, yet Ann seemed ready to protest before Ainsle raised a hand and cleared her throat. “You two got to double back for a stretch to see if we missed anything… or anyone.”
Ben saw the logic in his mentor’s strategy. June lacked the experience, yet apparently, had the firepower in the event they ran into trouble while scouting out a potential rest area. Kieran’s sensory spells and level-head could be used to do exactly as she had described, and Ben trusted him to keep his Keeper safe —not that she wouldn’t be able to handle herself, he thought, but the proximity to the temple left him with a nagging dread that crept up his spine. He wondered if distance affected the malicious influence she had been subjected to and decided to test the theory only when absolutely prepared for it.
June appeared oblivious to her party members' concerned expressions as she jovially trotted toward the front of the group; a coy smile and playful eyes met Ben’s gaze. “So, we gonna blow some fools up?” she asked cheerfully. When the young man didn’t reply, she added. “I don’t think there’s any other reason Aunt wants me to tag along. Blowing stuff up is my specialty.” She winked, and Ben shrugged.
“Let’s see.” He paused and glanced at Ann before leaning closer to June to whisper. “I hope not because we might need to conserve our strength for what’s waiting inside,” Ben said as he lifted a finger to his lips.
June giggled. “Whatever you say, Benny boy.”
“Around that bend,” Ainsle said to Kieran as she pointed down the path from where they had come. “About fifty paces. If there ain't anything, head back up and meet us at the pavilion. Otherwise, we’ll come down and check on you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Apprentice Necromancer said as he ushered the blonde Keeper down the trail.
Ben watched the pair leave and saw the form of a raven fly across the path below them. He frowned as a thought struck him. “Hey, Ainsle,” he called to his mentor, who tilted her head up the path toward the temple. The trio began the slow walk uphill, weapons drawn. “The bird back in the inn… I didn’t think to ask because…”
“Cause everything felt fucky,” she completed his sentence in a low rasp.
“Yeah. How did you know to look inside the raven?”
The old Berserker sniffed. “I didn’t. You can call it a hunch, I guess. There’s some old druidic magic that uses dead birds as messengers.” She paused. “Usually crows, grown ones that have died naturally —you know how those Druids are— that’s why I wasn’t sure when I saw the raven chick in the nest.”
The young man frowned as the group trudged up a particularly steep section of the path. “That doesn’t explain why the letter was inside the bird. Don’t messenger birds usually carry the letters?”
Ainsle chuckled. “Yeah, that’s how normal folk do it, but anyone can read sensitive information if they catch the bird, right? With that magic, the little cunts seek out the receiver and blow up.”
“…Blow up?” Ben asked, aware that the albino Caster suddenly became interested in their conversation.
“Yup. Especially shitty if you’re in the middle of reappropriating goods from a rich merchant convoy. Suddenly, you don’t look as menacing when a bird explodes right in front of your bloody face. In pink smoke. Leaving behind a pink letter.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Right,” Ben said, eyes drawn in feigned suspicion.
“Enough of that. We’re here,” Ainsle said as the group stood before a large, empty, paved area sheltered by an immense curved roof.
The pavilion was massive. The expansive circular stone floor reached out to a cliff that overlooked the shattered tooth mountain range and the sickly, giant Tear in the pale morning sky. Elegant pillars of the same grey stone were placed on the edges of the great dias, supporting a huge domed ceiling. Creeping vines and dead leaves dotted the pale stone; abandoned tents, bedrolls, and other miscellaneous items littered the ground, and the young man could see no sign of life. On the far edge of the pavilion, a wide set of stairs led upward to what Ben assumed to be the temple —the steps led to a ridge that blocked his view.
Ben shook his elbows to shake the feeling of unease. He had felt calm… almost distracted from their purpose here.
Shouldn’t I be on edge? He asked himself before his eyes widened in realization.
“I think there’s some kind of magic influencing our thoughts. I feel too… relaxed,” Ben said to the women.
June frowned and struck her forehead with her knuckles as if she were knocking on a door. “I don’t feel shit,” she said after a beat.
Ainsle sighed at the words. “Ol’ Ain was never good at this kind of thing. Now that we know, keep your wits about you.”
Ben nodded, June shrugged, and the trio descended to the paved rest area. The feeling of wrongness only intensified as they approached the pavilion via the dirt path. As soon as he set foot on the paving, his vision blurred slightly, as if distorted by heat, yet the cold late autumn air narrowed his focus. Ainsle and June seemed to notice his unease as they took slow, tentative steps on the stone, eyes scanning the area. Ainsle gestured that they check the abandoned tents for occupants, to which June and Ben complied.
After a while of searching, no threats had presented themselves, and the trio chose a spot near the broad stairway to start a fire and recover from the trek before their foray into the temple. They sat silently, and Ben’s thoughts wandered to Derek, who had conveyed ‘thoughts’ through their link every evening after sunset like clockwork. So far, the Bounty Hunter’s son had expressed feelings of, and similar to, contentment as well as concern, which Ben assumed to be the worries of a son for his father. The young man was likewise content with the communication and his progress in learning to use his concept.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” asked June and, as if summoned by the words, footsteps crunching in the snow drew their attention to the path.
A tall figure dragged its feet across the snow-covered path and nearly tripped at the beginning of the paved pavilion. Ainsle swore, and Ben’s eyes went wide. The creature was lanky, with spindly limbs ending in cruel talons. Its flesh was a sickly greyish-green, and its smooth face was devoid of eyes, nose, or mouth. The image of the creature in Ann’s domain surfaced from his memory, and he leapt to his feet; the crash of steel against stone told Ben that his mentor had readied her ridiculous weapon as well. He glanced at Ainsle, who tilted her head toward the creature, and the pair took slow steps to meet it.
Ben pulsed concern toward Ann, who replied with an emotion that could only be described as frustration. The creature halted in its tracks and turned to face the Champions of Illephrre; its slumped shoulders betrayed the agility and strength he knew it possessed.
“Calm!” called a familiar voice. “Yes, I apologize, Miss Blackwood.”
“You would do well to heed my warnings, Master Jaste. I know my Champion better than most,” said Ann tersely. “Consider yourself lucky that he didn’t destroy your new pet the moment he laid eyes on it.”
The bickering pair had crested the pathway and approached the pavilion. Kieran walked with raised hands and a weak smile. Ben and Ainsle shared a glance before turning their attention to their companions.
“Oi, where in fuck’s name did you find that?” hollered the old Berserker.
Ann huffed as the pair joined the party, and Kieran winced before clearing his throat. “We came across this fellow amongst the brush further down the path. The cause of death eludes me as there are no visible signs of struggle I could discern.” He paused and coughed. “Any idea as to its species?”
“I thought you’d be able to tell us?” Ben said.
“Ah, yes. As you can see, it lacks the appropriate organs for verbal conversation, which led me to believe it communicated through gestures or potentially psychic means in life.”
“Gods, he’s an ugly bastard,” said June as she shivered, standing beside the fire.
Ben and Ainsle walked around the undead creature and inspected it thoroughly. The pair of fighters nodded to each other, an unspoken acknowledgment that the monster was similar to that which the malicious Priestess had changed into during their trip to the Keeper’s domain. Kieran joined June by the fire, and Ann stood patiently watching Ben.
“Besides this thing, everything else all right down there?” the young man asked his Keeper.
“Yes, my heart. Nothing of note… yet,” she paused and glanced back toward the path. “It unsettles me greatly…” she trailed off.
“The pendants we found?”
“That and the lack of faithful here in the pavilion. This is where all, from beggars to kings, are welcomed to rest and sup. Pilgrims have occupied this area for as long as I’ve known.” Her brows slanted. “There is another matter.”
“Yeah?”
“I might not be received kindly by the clergy due to… the nature of my departure from the temple.”
“Did you run away?” Ben asked. He considered the woman who he had thought to be a devout Priestess of Illephrre, yet the thought of an escape from her captors didn’t come as much of a surprise to him.
Ann hesitated, which caused Ben a small measure of concern. “In a sense. I think it would be best to show you once we’ve entered the temple. They cannot deny the will of the Harbinger, so if you will it, I will be able to walk the halls freely once again.”
Ben winced at his Keeper’s words. “Yeah, sure, Annie,” was all he managed to say.
Ann smiled at the pet name and gestured to the party sitting around the fire. Ben returned the smile and nodded before the pair joined their companions.
“By the way,” Ben said to his Keeper. “I have a feeling… very subtle, I think. But I’m sure someone is using some kind of magic that’s affecting my thoughts. It’s weird. Like I shouldn’t be as calm as I am.”
The blonde woman paused in her tracks and faced the young man with brows furrowed in concern. “May I?” she asked after a beat, lifting her palms toward him.
Ben recalled how she had dispelled the High Priest of Iorilai’s manipulation with a touch, and he nodded as he took her hands in his. Immediately, a cold dread cascaded over his form, and he felt the growl of the beast shake his core. He glanced at his companions, who sat, without a care, in front of the fire.
His instincts screamed at him, and his gaze scanned the area around them.
“My heart. What’s wrong?” Ann asked, concern colored her tone.
Ben didn’t reply as he let go of her hands. He frantically searched for the source of his unease, and after a few futile moments, he froze.
He tilted his head upward to the massive domed ceiling of the pavilion and fell into a defensive stance. His heart threatened to burst from his chest, and his jaw clenched so hard he swore he felt a tooth chip.
On the ceiling, above the oblivious party, hundreds of the same creatures clung, upside down, to the surface. Their fleshy bodies camouflaged against the pale stone as they hung deathly still. Hundreds of featureless faces stared at Ben. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow to a crawl until he saw one of the creature’s head twitch. And then another. And another.