The cold, musty air rushed to greet Axeton as he entered the tunnel. The walls of roughhewn stone seemed to collect the damp, releasing it onto his fingers and he brushed past. The ceiling wasn’t very tall, so the priest had to duck slightly to avoid bumping his head. The smell of musty, earthy air clung to his nose as he walked, as he felt his way through the pitch black tunnel. Thankfully, he had been through it before, during the paranoia of his early days at Avandale he made sure he always had an escape route, and found it. So he knew that the tunnel didn’t have any traps or sudden drop offs, but it didn’t make the journey any easier when he was rushing to save the lives of hundreds of friends and family. Axeton hastily felt his way through, his hands alternating between the stone and roots that had broken through from the outside.
Eventually, he felt the smooth door at the end of the tunnel. A relief, but only temporary as Axeton was still surrounded by danger. He gritted his teeth as he pressed his ear against the door, praying for the next step of the journey to not be overrun with enemies.
Through the old, wooden door, Axeton heard a muffled chatter, thankfully it didn’t seem close. He very carefully cracked open the door, lifting it up slightly on its hinge to prevent its telltale creak. The underground room was quiet, and although a few of the crates had been opened and some of the silver candlesticks were gone, it was void of enemies and the door to the main church had been shut. He looked around, and while a few wooden crates had been pried open, most of them were exactly as he had left them.
Carefully taking the few steps up to the door leading to the church proper, he stopped and listened again. The voices inside were louder, the sounds echoing off the church’s stone walls.
The moment of truth, Axeton thought. Time to see what else I’m dealing with.
The priest gently opened the door a fraction of an inch and waited. No new noise, and there didn’t seem to be an alarm raised. Another inch, nothing. Another. And another. After there was just enough room to stick his head through the gap, he did so, as close to the ground as I could.
The church was in shambles. The hand-carved wooden pews had been hastily thrown against either long side of the room. Torn cloth hung loosely from the wooden candlesticks, where banners celebrating Avara had been not hours before. Sitting near the door was a small handful of recruits, counting a somewhat large pile of valuables. Avandale could never be called rich, but parents often saved their earnings for years to afford to send their children off into the world and were known to amass quite a rainy-day fund. The funds of every family in the village were sprawled out in a circle, with their liberators surrounding it.
Axeton sat and watched for a moment, making sure that none were inclined to suddenly get up. Taking stock, he wasn’t able to see any enemies in the church other than the ones currently counting. He was grateful that the ones who built the church kept it small, a more cavernous one would better facilitate hidden enemies at a time like this.
Suddenly, a cough. The sharp noise echoed through the room as Axeton kept his head perfectly still, and one or two of the men looked up slightly and in the direction of the hallway that ran parallel to the chapel. The chapel was originally quite a bit bigger, but the extra space along the side was walled off years ago to create a more “humble” space, with inconspicuous entrances near the entrance, popping out near the ambulatory on the other side.
That must be where everyone else is, Axeton thought. At least they’re alive.
Putting everything that could possibly make noise while he walked into his pocket, the priest deftly made his way towards the hallway entrance. He had to keep low, scuttling from pile of debris to pile of debris, a few times being completely exposed. A loud outcry stopped his blood cold.
“HEY!”, one of them shouted.
Oh shit, they’re going to kill me, then kill some poor villagers as punishment for defying them, Axeton panicked.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you cheating bastard!”, another one yelled. The relief was palpable.
“Ten plus ten is twenty”, the first one barked at the second. “Everyone gets twenty pieces of loot, Dorian says we gotta split it up even.”
The second stood up, his arms crossed indignantly. “I know what he said, but your pieces are bigger than mine! I didn’t get no gold, and you gots two pieces in gold with your silver!”
“Dorian said I could claim a little extra”, the first said, not even bothering to stand. “Said I get it for ‘sustaining injuries’ during the raid when it should have been easy and bloodless”.
What. Axeton’s mind reeled.
The second huffed, getting angrier. “So, you get more gold just cause some little brat nicked your face? How much would the boss give you if I caved your ugly face in?!”
He. Killed. Tommen. The angry voice latched onto the priest’s rage.
KILL him KILL him KILL him NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW YOU CAN TAKE THEM ALL. It roared.
He felt sick to his stomach, shaking his head as he suppressed the urge to vomit.
You can’t be seen now. Save the others, the quiet voice pleaded.
Axeton wiped away a tear that had briefly clouded his vision, and continued along the side until he reached the hallway’s entrance, the bandits’ shouting continuing to echo in this once sacred hall. He pressed myself as hard as he could against the wall near the door, then slowly opened it. Shuddered cries started from someone next to the door on the other side, which turned into a gasp, and he came through and shut the door behind him. Hasty whispers spread down the entire hallway, as dozens of sets of eyes slowly rose to meet mine. He raised a finger to his lip, gesturing for them to keep it down with his other hand. The cold, stale hallway quieted.
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Scanning the area directly in front of him , he identified Joise, an elderly woman who loved to take advantage of traveling merchants but could always be counted on whenever anyone in town needed help.
“Joise”, Axeton whispered hastily. “What’s going on here? Is this everyone? Where is Baron Estes, and the Bell of Avara?”
She answered, trying desperately to control her panic. “Axeton, thank Avara you’re okay. I was worried that they may have caught you on the way back from Brey’s farm and these men came out of nowhere and started rounding us up”. Her voice was getting higher and higher, shaking with grief at the recollection.
“It’s ok,” the priest soothed. “I had some trouble, but I made it here. Please, tell me what’s happening”.
She shivered, then nodded, composing herself.
“Shortly after you left, these men from Grenfield and others came out of the forest, surrounding the village. We were all told that they were sent by Baron Estes and there was an emergency, and we needed to meet at the church to stay safe.”
Joise sniffled, then continued.
“We were so scared, they led us into the church and then crammed us in here while they looted everything in our pockets. Some of them may have gone out to rob our houses, but I don’t know.”
“And the Bell?” he asked, growing more concerned.
She lowered her head, shaking it slowly. “They took it. The man who seemed to be in charge said they had a ‘better use for it’. By the time we were thrown in here, they were carrying it out covered in a metallic blue cloth.”
Metallic blue cloth? Axeton thought, trying to put the pieces of Dorian’s plan together.
“Was anyone able to use their Gifts after the men appeared?” he asked cautiously.
She shook her head again. “No. I was in my garden when my granddaughter asked why she suddenly stopped being able to Listen to the birds. A minute later, one of them came and escorted us out.”
So, the glory was working perfectly up until the Bell was probably stolen, Axeton figured. It must have something to do with whatever they covered it with, but thinking about what I know about Proximancy, there was nothing that could just “turn off” a Destined Object from giving glory except for being drained.
But the Bell was secondary, he decided. He needed to get all these people out of here and into the woods. But something was bothering Axeton in the back of his mind. Something didn’t feel right, outside of the obvious.
“Joise,” the priest asked. “Where is everyone else?”
The old woman stared at him. “What do you mean?” she replied.
“I mean, where is the rest of the town? There are maybe sixty people in here, in a town of about 250. I didn’t see anyone else outside except for Brey and Tommen,” Axeton reasoned.
She seemed to have difficulty remembering. “Oh, some managed to escape or hide, it seems. Also, Mr Peterson went on a hunting trip early this morning, and took a lot of people with him.”
This doesn’t seem right, Axeton thought. But I don’t have time to pick apart details. Everyone needs to get to safety.
Axeton spoke to her sternly, shaking off the doubt lingering in his mind. “Do you know where the church’s underground storage is?”
Joise nodded.
“Good,” he continued. “In the wall in that room is a secret entrance that will lead us out to the river. I need you and a few of the elders to escort everyone out quietly. Once you get out, stay quiet and run to Bastion. It’ll take hours, but that’s the closest village big enough to help.”
“We’ll start out on your signal”, she whispered, shaky but determined.
Axeton made his way back to the door leading underground, the argument amongst the thieves seemed to have quieted. On the way back, he was able to use some discarded banners by carefully draping them over the exposed areas of debris. He double checked that the coast was clear, then gestured at Joise for them to start heading his way. Watching each and every surviving villager slowly walk through a gauntlet of debris as enemies sat so close by was agony. His heart and breathing stopped with every trip and near fall, every hand slip that almost made noise, at every suppressed cough.
There were about fifty or so left in the hallway, when a chair that had been leaning against the smooth stone of the church walls finally slipped. It cascaded down some upturned pews, hitting the cold floor with a loud shatter.
“Keep it down over th…WHAT?!” choked one of the recruits, turning around in shock at the noise. The rest of his kin turned as well, to see a line of prisoners escaping from right under their noses.
Axeton drew his blade, whipping his other arm through the air to direct the remaining villagers.
“GO! GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T SAY ANYTHING! DON’T STOP! RUN!” he cried.
In the stunned moment after discovery, Axeton turned to face his newly alerted foes, who had all risen and drawn their weapons as well. One of them barked, “Reed, get Dorian. They’re escaping!”
One of the recruits looked back at the stream of villagers, then to their leader, before unlatching the lock on the large door and running out.
The priest instinctively ran a few feet forward in pursuit but was cut off by a wall of steel.
“Ooooh no”, the one who seemed to be the leader chided. “You get to deal with us before reinforcements come and take off your head.”
He motioned towards the terrified, fleeing prisoners. “And they’re next”.
Axeton drove himself into a defensive stance version of Stance Seven, standing between them and the remaining villagers. The stained-glass window at the back of the church escorted colorful shapes onto the side of his blade, which hung in the air, threatening anyone stupid enough to get close.
One of the people behind Axeton tripped, which caused him to look back for a split second. An enemy took the opportunity to lunge forward with a spear towards his torso. He twisted, batting the tip away with his free hand before grabbing it and yanking hard. The attacker surprisingly didn’t let go, but stumbled forward, caught off-balance. The action had caused the blunt end of the haft to pull from his side to just in front of his chest, and Axeton slammed the spear back at him, knocking him square as he fell back, wheezing. He finally let go of the spear, which rattled to the floor in front of him.
HOW MANY CAN YOU TAKE OUT BEFORE YOU’RE SURROUNDED, the angry voice goaded.
As many as it takes to provide a distraction, the priest thought.
GOOD, the voice croaked. MAKE THEM PAY.