It started to rain as they drew closer to the vineyard that Mara’s father had owned. The wooden gates were closed and the chain that locked them was heavy black iron. Therin slid off the horse and looked closely at the lock and the gate, hoping for a way to easily dismantle one or the other. He spun as he heard Noran land painfully on his injured leg.
“It needs a spell,” he said and pointed at the dagger Therin had tucked into his belt. “I need my blade.”
Therin drew it and peered down the cheap blade but didn’t return it to Noran.
“Where’s yours? This one is shit.”
“Thank you, I know it is.” He held out his hand for the blade but Therin watched him, his eyes narrowed. The rain had gone colder than a usual summer rain, making the thinner man start to shiver.
“Where’s yours?” Therin repeated but Noran shook his head. “Did you get it taken away for bad behaviour?” Noran merely waved his hand again, waiting for the dagger. With a wary apprehension, he slowly handed it to the male witch.
“I just need a drop of my blood,” he said and quickly poked at a finger with the tip, drawing a red bead of blood that he let fall onto the lock holding the gate closed. He whispered something Therin couldn’t hear over the rain and suddenly the lock popped open and fell to the ground. Noran bent and scooped up the lock and then handed it and the dagger back to the taller man. Therin tucked the dagger back into his belt and pocketed the heavy lock before grabbing Sabra’s reins and indicating that Noran should lead the way into the abandoned vineyard.
The rain dripped down his neck and slithered under the mail, making his skin crawl as they walked down the long winding drive toward the vineyard and the winery estate buildings. The tree-lined drive was turning muddy and as Therin watched Noran struggle to keep his footing, he realised that he was in a lot worse shape than he had let on earlier. He seemed almost drunk, a little wobbly as he walked and as Therin watched him slip again, he reached out and took his arm, steadying him.
“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered and released his brother’s arm. Noran shook his head and continued, opting to ignore the question. Lighting tore the sky and he cringed. Noran was very unwell, Therin decided.
As they came to the end of the long drive, Noran slowed and crouched behind a tree that had been felled across the path. He motioned for Therin to join him, shivering.
“I need the dagger again but you have to stay here,” he said through chattering teeth. His silver blond hair was stuck to his forehead in slick strands, the rain coursing down his face. His lips were blue, Therin noted, and his eyes were glassy. His pock-scarred face was paler than usual and his thin shoulders shook.
“Noran…” The barest hint of sympathy slipped through his mask and Therin tamped down on his emotions. This man was dangerous. He was not his brother. He was a liar, a traitor, a witch. He shook himself and drew the dagger, eyeing him carefully as he handed the blade over. “I’m watching you.”
Noran nodded gravely and leapt over the tree, landing awkwardly and falling to his knees. He got up, the dagger clutched in his hand, and limped toward a large L-shaped storage house that was shaded by a huge weeping willow. Lightning cracked and thunder rumbled soon after.
Therin wiped the rain from his eyes and looked around himself. The storehouse was slightly to his left, the path forward curving sharply right. The gloomy clouds and rain made the visibility low but he could just make out the large winery estate. The tall building was lit from behind as another bolt of lightning struck the sky. The vineyards must be close but the trees obscured his view. Was it his imagination or was the sky even darker than it had been a few minutes ago?
He whispered a prayer, letting the Light flow down him, warming the wet chill from his skin. The thunder rumbled above him and he adjusted himself, his crouched legs aching from the stillness. He counted to twenty then to twenty again. Had Noran taken off?
Suddenly a bellow tore the silent air that had Therin standing up, Galvyn’s mace at the ready. A small crash ensued and then Noran, limping as fast as he could, dashed out of the storehouse.
“Follow me!” He screamed and continued down the slick, muddy path toward the estate proper, rain lashing sideways against him.
Therin deftly hopped the fallen tree and squelched after the hobbled man, easily catching up to him. Behind him a loud explosion went off and Noran threw himself onto the muddy ground. Therin would have landed on him if he had not rolled at the last second, instead making his own wet impact in the rain-slicked mud. Noran was already on his feet, running as hard as he could. Bewildered, Therin followed.
At the door to the winery, Noran said something in a harsh, sibilant language, waving the cheap blade before him and not slowing down as he approached. He barrelled into the door, which thankfully had unlocked and unlatched. Therin was a moment behind him. Noran slammed the door and threw the latch and the lock and limped down a flight of stairs just to the left. Thunder rumbled again, echoing their footsteps down the wooden stairs. Something banged into the door, making Therin jump.
“Keep going,” Noran said, grunting as he hopped awkwardly down the stairs.
At the bottom was a dank cellar, musty and cold. Lanterns along the wall flared on, dimly lighting the space but casting the stairway into a deep darkness. The rain was still loud even underground and the loud banging sounded again. Noran spun and gestured for Therin to get behind him. His hair raised along his arms, the chill of the rain and the damp cellar making him shiver, Therin raised his mace and looked at the wide-eyed witch as he crouched low at the foot of the stairs but followed his direction and readied himself behind the wounded man.
Therin flared the Light inside him, a ward against the lurching darkness that seemed to coil out of the man before him, and watched as Noran began to glow purple. The Light in Therin flared and suddenly Noran went rigid, whispering in the swishy, hissing language again. A circle of bright purple light blazed brightly at the bottom of the steps, large enough to snag a large foot.
Therin felt a chill chase itself down his spine as the banging at the top of the stairs was followed by a loud crashing crunch. Icy air drifted down the stairs, bringing along with it a charred, burnt flesh smell.
“When it gets down here,” Noran gasped, clutching his chest which was heaving. “Brand it with Light while I snare it.” Therin’s heart raced, his wet clothes clinging to his clammy skin but he nodded once and hefted the mace, pouring Light into the weapon.
A brief moment of doubt chased its way across him as realised he was about to use a holy mace for the first time, untested and without the rites of a Paladin to guide him. He had trained with similar weapons, he wasn’t completely devoid of knowledge. But this was a special mace, a hammer made to be infused with Light, to act as an extension of the Paladin’s self. What if it rejected him? What if he couldn’t do this? Panic welled in Therin. Why had he left the monastery? Why had he not kept his temper in check?
The top stair creaked, the darkness preventing anything from being visible, drawing Therin back into the now.
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“Don’t kill it,” Noran gasped again and Therin realised he was using some of his energy, his power, to maintain the circle at the bottom of the stair. “I need its power to open the door.” He jerked his head behind them but Therin didn’t take his eyes off the stair as it creaked again.
A low snuffling and the smell of fire followed the creak and then suddenly a deep, wet rumble of a growl rolled down the stairs. Therin’s eyes widened.
“Come on,” Noran whispered. “Come on…”
An enormous dark paw descended the stair, singing and charring the wood as it settled its weight, the long black claws thick and almost blunted. It reminded Therin of something…
No. He said to himself. No, Noran couldn’t have. Mara couldn’t have…
“A hellhound?” He hissed to Noran who ignored him, his dagger held aloft and his eyes watching.
The creature descended, a second paw now visible as the first skipped a step, the charred wood smoking as it slowly rolled forward. The first leg was chased in lines of bright red and orange, as though the beast was superheated within, the surface held together tenuously. The lines pulsed thicker, then thinner, as though the black surface was moving, as though it was breathing in time with the beast. From the size of the foreleg alone, Therin guessed the beast was easily as large as a horse.
Finally, the great wide head came into view and Therin felt his blood run cold with terror. Wide black eyes blazed with hellfire, the short pointed ears stiff and twitching. Enormous yellowish teeth were bared, slick with venomous saliva. A long string of drool dripped, sizzling on the step.
“Now,” whispered Noran and Therin didn’t hesitate. He pointed his mace at the massive demon dog, his arm forward, his body turned to the side for stability. He clenched his teeth and forced his Light through the weapon, adding it to the store of power he had already given the weapon. A primal roar escaped him at the effort, his muscles straining. A bright flash of gold shocked the hellhound, a loud roaring shattering the air.
Instead of charging in anger and stepping into the snare, the hellhound launched himself forward, completely clearing the trap and landing with a growl. Noran, his eyes wide, turned and hobbled backwards, cringing behind Therin as the beast focused on the would-be Paladin.
Long strings of drool slithered out of its mouth and the heated lines across its body pulsed as it stared Therin down.
“Kill it?” Therin asked.
“No! We’ll never get the door open without its power.”
“What door?” Therin demanded but he kept his eyes forward, paralysed, as he stared at the demonic beast.
“The door to the portal room,” Noran said and Therin almost rounded on him, stopping at the last second to refocus on the problem before him.
“What do you need to do to get its power?” Therin demanded as the dog paced a step forward.
“I just need its blood,” came Noran’s reply. “But he needs to be alive.”
“Unconscious?” Therin asked.
“Yes,” Noran confirmed.
The hellhound pounced again, a low growl preceding the launch and Therin rolled one way, Noran the other. Suddenly, they were divided by the beast and even Therin could tell who would be easier to pick off. The hellhound put its back to him and stalked toward Noran, who was still struggling to his feet. Therin began to recharge his mace, pouring the Light into it as fast as he could. Dizziness almost brought him to his knees but the Light sustained him, keeping him afoot.
Noran faced the beast bravely, his feet wide apart, and Therin felt the Light inside him flare again as his brother whispered a spell and slashed in the air with the blade, too far to reach the beast but it whimpered anyway, as though struck. Therin saw a thick drop of blood spatter the stone floor and saw the blood begin to bubble and then turn black.
Now with one eye closed against the gash in its face, the hellhound, enraged, surged forward. Noran turned to run and stumbled. Therin, unsure if he could recharge the mace again as it had seemed reluctant to accept his Light, skipped forward and brought the mace, glowing brightly like a hammer of fire, down onto the haunches of the enormous beast.
The injured whimper was sharp and the roar that followed it was one of pain and rage. The hound swung its massive head around and snapped at Therin, at the mace that he had been hurt with. Therin jumped backward, his heart racing. It had bought Noran enough time, though, and he struggled to his feet and brought the dagger down in a quick slash, cutting the shoulder of the hellhound. The dagger glowed red, ominous and unnatural.
“Got it!” Noran yelled triumphantly and he turned to hobble to the large black door that Therin finally noticed. The hellhound, angrier at the slice and his stolen blood than the smash to his hip, spun around again and gave chase to Noran.
“Watch out!” Therin shouted and Noran twisted.
The witch lifted his blade but the hellhound surged forward in a preternatural swiftness, knocking the blade aside with his head and diving forward. Noran spun but his leg gave out and he crashed to the floor, his breath knocked out of him. The blade spun, still red with the hellhound's power, just out of his reach.
No. Therin said to himself. No!
Time slowed for Therin. It was several heartbeats of time between Noran’s damning crash to the floor and the venomous mouth closing around his extended leg. Several more heartbeats passed as the teeth pierced his leg. Even longer as the hound lifted his head, the leg in his grip. A calmness descended on Therin.
Like a key being turned, he realised suddenly that he did not want Noran to die. Not like this, not while he was wounded and unable to fight back. Not like this.
“I am a Hammer of Light,” he murmured to himself. Light lit across his body, time still seemingly slowed. The Light was different, though, not just a bright gold but a gold chased with the white of hot sunlight, threaded with the copper of a bloody sunset, the orange of a fall morning. His body went numb, but it was as though he had disconnected from it, in no way unpleasant.
Therin felt something inside the mace in his hand change, something yielding to him that had resisted him, and suddenly the floodgates between himself and the weapon were open, the Light flowing unrestrained. He looked at his hands, time still slowed, and saw that he was filled with a glittering Light that chased across his skin in coloured waves.
You are a Hammer of Light. His mace said to him and he gripped the weapon, letting it direct him forward.
With one swing, he had crippled the hellhound, the Light searing the hardened flesh and allowing the molten insides to pour freely.
The second swing, into the hound’s ribs, broke something inside it and the wounded scream it let out forced it to drop Noran’s leg. The hellhound’s power surged, though, healing the wounds instantly and Therin danced backwards, no longer thinking, just allowing his body to react. Out of the corner of his eye, Noran lay still.
The hellhound spun again and lunged, clutching the haft of the mace in its enormous jaws. Therin pushed back against the beast but it had weight on him and he was thrown backward against the brick wall. The mace was ripped from his hands, the long wooden handle crushed in half, and thrown wide, slamming to the far wall with a crash. With his breath knocked out of him painfully, stars in his eyes, he felt the luminous Light sputter and go out, leaving him cold and painfully aware of his human limitations. He lifted his hands, knowing that fists would be pitifully ineffectual but with no other option. The hound lunged again.
A loud whirring and a shout in Dinari came from near the stairs and a bolt of Light struck the beast, singing the air with an electric tang. A second bolt landed and the beast roared, throwing his head back and turning to the new threat. Over the bulk of the beast Therin was shocked to see Roshan, his eyes dark with fury, his form crackling with wild Light.
He spun his glaive and screamed in Dinari again, Light crashing from him again and striking the hellhound. He dashed forward smoothly, his body so like the lighting he controlled that Therin wondered at his grace. He dropped to his knees, sliding beneath the beast with a scream. When he was directly below the beast, he threw himself onto his back and angled the glaive upwards, embedding the blade, which was wrapped in incandescent Light, deep inside the hound’s gut.
As the molten insides began to pour out, Roshan rolled out from beneath the demon and sprang to his feet. Spinning, he kicked, striking the hound on the head, knocking it to the ground and ending the immediate threat to their lives.
“Roshan,” Therin said breathlessly. The Blademaster merely looked at him and yanked his glaive free of the hound’s body, which was starting to smoke. “Where’s Hrulinar?”
“Gone,” he said simply and knelt beside Noran.
“What do you mean?” Therin asked, confusion and worry bleeding into his words. The Blademaster glared up at him and only then did Therin see the look of betrayed anger in the young man’s eyes.