“Yes, alright!” Alira hissed. “He’s an idiot and so am I for letting this happen. What do we do?”

Oh, you want my help now? My advice is to leave him here and get the hell out of this city. You do realise his entire order is your sworn enemy?

“Not mine. I didn’t ask for this.”

Doesn’t matter. You have it, you’re in it. Leave him and get out.

Alira clenched her jaw and shook her head. Henry was wrong. Therin was a fool for getting drunk but she knew she could trust him. He was sincere in his desire to help, if only because he knew that if returned the order’s lost book, he’d be a full paladin. She made up her mind and tapped into the bank of power that Henry represented inside her.

What are you doing?

Alira bent and lifted the heavy man, careful to step around his puddle of sick, and slung him over her shoulder. She hesitated, deciding if she should knock or just enter. She opened the door and slipped into the silent monastery.

Luckily, the monastic grounds were uncomplicated, and she could easily remember her way back to the dormitories. She grunted as she set the prostrate form down, his back against the same pillar they had hidden behind earlier, and darted to the door of the cells.

The dormitory itself was quiet. She could make out the soft click of boots on stone somewhere, likely a night sentry. She chewed her lip, thinking.

Stick to the shadows. Listen for footsteps. Henry sounded reluctant and exasperated but her hearing and vision suddenly became better in the gloom and she nodded her thanks then slipped into the darkness.

The door to Therin’s cell was unlocked and she opened it. Leaving it wide open while she dropped off her pack and left her daggers on the desk, she then tiptoed as quickly as she could back to the main courtyard, cursing the brightness of the moonlight falling on the halls of the cloister.

“Drunk,” she heard a voice and froze. She slipped into the shadows of the wall, pressing herself tightly to the stone bricks and held her breath. Henry bled a little power into her and she could suddenly make out two figures, dressed in sentry garb, inspecting Therin’s slumped form.

“Idiot,” mumbled the sentry standing. “Do you want to report him?”

The kneeling sentry paused then nodded once.

“We have to. It’s our duty.”

“Right,” agreed the standing figure. Neither moved. The kneeling one looked up at the other and cleared his throat.

“I mean, we have to report him, right?”

“We should.”

“We should,” the kneeling one agreed but neither made a move. A groan issued from Therin, who wriggled and then slid slowly to rest on his side. He rolled onto his back and grunted.

“Zeke,” the drunken man muttered. “Zeke.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The kneeling figure bent closer and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You feeling ok?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I feel like shit,” Therin admitted, mumbling.

“You smell like shit.” The two sentries chuckled quietly as they helped Therin to his feet.

“You’ll have to report me for drunkenness.” Therin said, swaying between the two.

“You’re drunk?” the one who had been kneeling asked. “You don’t seem drunk to me.”

“Bad curry, I think. Food poisoning,” the other said matter-of-factly.

“What? No–” Therin stopped, realising what they had said. “Yes, actually. Terribly bad–” he belched, dangerously close to being sick again, and his head drooped. “Food poisoning.”

Alira pressed closer to the wall as they passed and Henry fed power into her, making her less visible. She could feel the current of his magic beneath her skin and it called to her in a dangerous way. As gently as she could, she pushed his power away and followed the group of three into the dormitories.

“I am a Hammer of Light,” Therin whispered. “The Light guides and guards.” The two carrying him exchanged glances and shook their heads in amusement.

Just as they reached the opened door to Therin’s cell, the three slowed and stopped. There was a faint glow coming from the open cell. A soft, purple glow.

The sentry who had been kneeling, Zeke, turned and looked at the other sober man carrying their brother. He jerked his head and shifted to take Therin’s weight off the other man who slipped his sword from his scabbard at this side with a metallic whisper.

“I am a Hammer of Light,” Therin said again and Alira wondered at his obsessive recital of his order’s mantras. The light in the cell flared and the sentry nearest the door baulked, shielding his eyes.

Oh, very clever. Henry said cryptically. When she didn’t answer he continued. I sense he’s trying to burn the alcohol from his blood with holy magic. He’s done that before, I bet.

“God is great and knows all,” Therin declared, his voice steadier. Zeke jiggled him and shushed him.

“Quiet, Therin. Something’s wrong.” Slowly, Zeke lowered him to the ground and drew his own blade, crouching defensively. The first brother had reached the doorway to the cell and entered slowly, his boots scraping on the stones.

“Show yourself,” his voice rang in the darkness and Alira felt a tug at her body, an impulse to step into the relative light of the main hall, to reveal herself.

Fight it. Henry said unnecessarily. They are using holy magic to command nature. He let more of his power leak into her and she felt herself shudder with the pleasure of it.

“Where’s Alira?” Therin said suddenly from the floor where his wavering had lessened, watching the two brother’s stalk toward his cell. “She left me.”

“I’m here,” Alira said, throwing caution out the door and stepping boldly toward Therin and his fellow monks. Zeke spun and held out his sword, his other hand held before him. He looked inept with his weapon as though a stout breeze would knock it from his fingers.

Great idea. Henry said wickedly and he wrested control of Alira for a split second, just long enough to yank the short, cheap sword from the man’s hand. It clattered noisily onto the stone floor and Zeke sank to his knees, his hands above his head.

“Witch,” he hissed, his eyes wide.

“Good job, Henry,” Alira muttered, realising she had seconds to act. Before she could stop herself, she drew on her and Henry’s power and bolted into the cell. She disarmed the startled monk, holding the blade to his chest with a quavering arm.

“Out,” she said, pointing to the door. The monk obliged, joining his two brothers on the floor outside Therin’s cell.

“Oh, hey Alira,” Therin said, surprised. His voice was no longer slurred. “I thought you left me.”

“I should have,” she spat. She slowly lowered the blade pointed at the monks and released the grip she had on the power inside her. She felt weak and dizzy, something akin to motion-sickness gripping her suddenly.

“The wards,” Zeke said ruefully. “You’ve just set off the alarm.” Bells began to toll, loud, close, and ominous. Before she could react, Therin turned and tackled Zeke, pushing him on his back and decking him hard enough to knock him out cold.

“I am a Hammer of Light,” he said again and it was then that Alira noticed the faint golden glow to him.