Once the aquatic abomination was no more than a melting pile of flesh sloughing off a jigsaw puzzle of a skeleton, it was finally over. Another four brave warriors had died in that final fight, and twice as many had been seriously hurt, reducing the martial strength of their cadre to half of what it had been at dawn. Most of those hurts would be healed within a few days with the proper rituals, but the dead were set aside together respectfully in a bloodless part of that foul hall until the danger had passed enough that they could be brought to the surface. Already though, Todd could feel the change. Everyone could. The blight that existed in these dank caverns had, in large part, vanished with the death of that monstrosity.
The chanting that had throbbed in the darkness was gone now, and the dreadful stillness had once more replaced its unnatural rhythm. Was it possible that they had really slain Oroza, he wondered. The Oroza was said to be a mighty river dragon, but the way that these people worshiped around that pool, it wasn’t impossible, was it? Perhaps she’d never been a dragon at all, and that had just been a myth to cover something darker. From its size, he could easily believe that it was linked underground to the nearby river.
That was the thought he returned to over and over again as they searched the side rooms they’d skipped until now. In them, the holy warriors found prayer rooms filled with unresponsive cultists who seemed to be able to do nothing more complicated than breathing and small libraries that were overflowing with blasphemy about the nature of their gods. The Templars would not even allow the remaining squires to look at the latter and had them end the suffering of the helpless cultists while they alone reviewed the profane material before burning it. In their search, they found several altars dedicated to the Oroza in all her aspects. Still, they found no one who could explain what had happened here. The leviathan had died, and somehow it had taken everyone’s minds with it.
The living worshipers weren’t much different than the remaining zombies in that sense. The zombies still moved and attacked if you got close enough for them to sense the spark of life that burned within Todd or his fellow warriors, but they lacked the strange teamwork that had made them such a formidable threat before. Now they were just a thrashing menaces somewhat less challenging than a rabid dog.
The Templars made quick work of the place after that. In killing the abomination these heretics had worshiped, they’d torn the heart out of this web of darkness just as it had torn the heart out of Jakobous’ body. They retrieved the bodies of the warriors that had died in the butcher’s den, but the strange surgeon that had made all of them had vanished without a trace. In the end, that zombie and the heart it had stolen from Jakobous were the only missing pieces of the puzzle, in a physical sense. Still, the mysteries only grew deeper as they found the routes that led from this underground temple to the buildings it was connected to on the surface.
That the set of winding stairs closest to the river led to the main temple of Oroza, the Storm Bringer that looked out over the river was a foregone conclusion. The only ones that were surprised that was where the first tunnel led were the priests they interrupted when they burst into the place. After taking several priests into custody, they quickly summoned the city guard of Fallravea to handle their prisoners and put the place to the torch.
“Rotten from top to bottom,” Brother Garrand said, scowling.
Todd was forced to agree because, to his eyes, the whole edifice was tainted. The beautiful marble building might not have been as obviously evil as the temple below. Still, it was easy enough to see the shadows lurking in the corners and on the faces of the devout. The entire edifice of the Oroza’s worship was as contaminated as the river, and he had no qualms in helping to light the fires himself.
Things happened quickly after that as Brother Faerbar took command of the guard from a weaselly-looking noble named Baronet Geldin. He was locked in a tower with the rest of the captured priests until each could be questioned and tested individually. It was a priority, but there was too much work to be done to take care of that just now. The smoky plume from the waterfront temple was drifting over the whole city by the time they had sealed the old city’s gates. Now they could descend again into the darkness and root out all the other filth that had to be purged by fire.
Watch Captain Bruden had worked hand in glove with the now-arrested guard captain. Still, he’d shown no reluctance in obeying every order the remaining Templars delivered to him. Todd couldn’t say whether that was because he was a devout man or because he knew the kind of scrutiny such resistance could bring to him. He’d heard that inquisitions were an ugly business, and there was no doubt in his mind that Brother Faerbar would send for those fanatics once the danger was past.
While the holy warriors were busy rooting out the nests of filth below, the watch captain carried out his mandates on the streets above. Curfews were being established, checkpoints were being manned, and anyone that seemed the least bit foreign or strange was being rounded up so that his master could look hard at them for the taint of evil. Each new path led to a new tunnel and a new den of vice and evil that needed to be purified by fire. A brothel, a butcher, a warehouse on the docks, and three noble houses all went up in flames before sunset. It was only once that was done that the Templars brought their dead to the surface to give them their last light rites by the glow of the setting sun.
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“We honor the fallen with the full knowledge that someday we too will fall as well,” Brother Faerbar intoned as he looked from his comrades to the setting sun and back. “They are only a step ahead of us in the eternal struggle, and we shall meet with them again in the next world.”
The ceremony continued until dark, and each surviving Templar said a few words. Todd could tell from the way several spoke that he wasn’t the only one concerned by Brother Jakobous’ missing heart, but he said nothing because it was not his place. He, like everyone else, was just grateful to have survived. They’d gone into the darkness of the palace with 17 men: eight Templars, eight squires, and one priest candidate. Now two Templars and three squires were dead, and another six people were dying, including Brother Verdenin, who was still only barely clinging to life.
By tomorrow half of those injured would be so wholly healed that it would be as if their wounds had never existed, but that was tomorrow. Tonight there were only five members of their cadre that were uninjured, and there was still much work to be done. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, and the prisoners were overflowing the city jail and three other defensible buildings that had been set aside for that purpose.
Todd had always thought that he would have been thrilled to be doing the work of the divine on such a day, but this evening excitement was the farthest thing from his mind. Between the exhaustion and grief, he felt like he was about to pass out on his feet. Unlike so many others, though, he was uninjured, so he owed it to everyone to do whatever he could for as long as he had to. As the night wore on, that mostly turned out to be running messages back and forth across the city through empty streets to let this unit of the city guard know to reposition here or inform the watch captain that all boats were to remain moored pending a thorough search.
“Don’t you see? This is the most crucial time,” he heard Brother Faerbar yelling at the watch captain after he hurried back breathlessly from delivering another message to the jailers. They were to start bringing prisoners to the temple at first light for questioning. Usually, his master would have another errand for him as soon as he arrived, but this time he had to wait for this argument to subside… or escalate, he thought grimly.
“Wasn’t that when you set half of Fallravea aflame this afternoon?” the man asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. “I’m telling you, the day watch needs to sleep, or we’ll be adding mutiny to our list of problems.”
“They can sleep when the checkpoints are all manned,” the paladin answered. “We have burned the viper’s nests and rounded up as many of their colleagues as we can find, but tonight is the night that the rest of the vermin will try to flee. Every man that escapes is another village that we will someday have to purge and burn in the exact. Same. Way.”
Whether it was the strength of Brother Faerbar’s argument or the way his eyes glowed as his righteous anger gathered, eventually, the Watch Captain relented. “I’ll see what I can do, but I ain’t promising any miracles,” he grumbled.
“Siddrim will provide all the miracles we could ever ask for,” the brother said with a smile, which quickly disappeared when he turned to Todd and gave him his next assignment.
Todd didn’t talk back. He just took the note and was off again on another jog through the moonlit city. He would deliver two more messages before his work for the day was finally done. It was almost midnight when he finally went to sleep on the floor of the tiny chapel to Siddrim that had become their base of operations in this godless city. They couldn’t be sure anywhere else was safe until they knew how deeply the rot had already spread. So, like everyone else, he fell asleep in his armor, waiting for an attack that never came.
Instead, he was greeted by dawn’s light and freshly baked bread that he greedily devoured after morning prayers were complete. There was still much to do, but now that the light was again on their side and the Templars had enough energy to heal the wounded, there was no chance that they would lose, Todd told himself.
When what healing could be done had been done and everyone had finished eating, Brother Faerbar addressed them all. Though he wasn’t a handsome man, as he stood before his assembled warriors in torn armor, silhouetted by the rising sun, Todd couldn’t help but be stunned as he took in everything his master said. The church of Siddrim forbade iconography of their god, preferring to think of him as pure white light. Still, in that moment, Todd couldn’t help but think of the man as the living embodiment of all that was good and just.
“You may or may not have realized it already,” his master said, speaking mainly to the assembled squires, “but we have already won. Last night was evil’s last chance to strike us down, and they failed. Instead, they are routed, and we are victorious.”
A cheer went up after that, but Brother Faerbar kept talking for quite a while as he laid out the plan. By the time the sun was set again on the city, there would be a messenger on their way back to Siddrimar to relay everything that had happened and request more assistance and public proclamations would be read to explain what had transpired to the fearful townspeople. After that, those with the sight would use it along with some harsh questioning to sort the genuinely guilty from those that had merely been standing too close and cut their number of suspects by at least half before they started putting people to the question. He continued, enumerating a long list of specifics they would focus on and who exactly was going to do what, but Todd didn’t worry about that. All that mattered to him was that they had fought evil, and they had won.