This part of the dungeons had not been used in a century. The stone steps were darkened with moisture dripping through cracks leading to the dungeon cells above. Thaddeus avoided the drips as best he could, but still he kept his hood up.

He rounded the corner from the stairs and saw the girl, and her treatment caused his breath to be caught in his throat. Her hands were bound behind her back with leather bracers. Her formerly beautiful dark hair had been roughly shorn within an inch of her head, by a knife it appeared. Her eyes were red and swollen, she must have been crying since she was captured. Worst of all the entire lower part of her face was encased in some kind of muzzle. It was leather and metal with runes inscribed on it, obviously to keep her silent. She probably couldn't hear a sound with it on either, her head shrouded in a magical silence. Guards on either side of her held her by chains attached to the binds on her arms. The Archbishop stood in front of her, an expression on his face Thaddeus couldn't tell if it was anger or amusement, but he seemed to be enjoying the suffering of this little girl.

“Ambrose,” said Thaddeus, as soon as he recovered his voice, “what have you done?”

“Done?” He replied, almost laughing, “what have I done? I have captured a scourge on our city, the demon spawn of the Queen of Monsters. What I have done, Thaddeus, is kept us safe.”

“Safe?” Thaddeus's voice rising in indignation, “Ambrose, that is a little girl.”

“Don't let her appearance fool you, father. That is a monster. Her voice alone can kill.” The amusement was quickly fading from the face of the Archbishop, “Don't question me Father, I know Amon's will. I am Amon's will.”

Thaddeus stepped up to the Archbishop, closing the distance for more private words, “your Grace, how can you think Amon wants you to do this? This is a child.” His voice dropped to a whisper with the guards present, “Ambrose, she is YOUR child. That is your daughter.”

There would be no mistaking the look of anger now on the Archbishop's face, “how dare you?” He hissed back, also keeping his voice down near the legionnaires, “How can you insinuate I would dare sully myself with.. with that whore? I am pure in the eyes of Amon. Thad, first Margie betrays me, not you too.”

Thaddeus looked into the eyes of his friend, he was gone. Madness, self delusion and desperation had replaced him. “Of course not your Grace. I apologize. I let rumors and fantasy cloud my mind. I shan't let it happen again.”

the priest turned and walked out, looking back only once, the eyes of the tortured girl pleading to him feeling like a knife in his heart.

Thaddeus reached the chambers of the Archbishop, he had stopped by his office and grabbed paperwork that he needed to drop off anyway, but rather than send them by a normal messenger he took them himself. The Archbishop's aid didn't even press the issue when he said he'd like to put them on his desk personally. Ambrose's office was a stark contrast to his own. Where Thaddeus was buried in mountains of paperwork, the Archbishop's desk was clear save for a single book. Thaddeus sat the papers on the desk and after a look around and finding himself in the clear, opened the book. His horror mounted as he turned each page. Inside were battle plans, plans for expansion, estimates of conscription percentages for each town to bolster the ranks of the Legion, plans for inquests to root out nonbelievers from the towns they conquered. Ambrose planned to go to war with the continent. And Thaddeus's blood ran cold.

“They have her,” moaned Xerro, sitting on the edge of the sofa in the common area, “we can't just sit here and…ow!” He cried as Angeline sewed up the gash on the back of his head.

“You are hurt,” she said forcefully, as she stitched, “you are not going anywhere until you are fixed. It would be a lot simpler if I could just use a healing drought on you. But since your curse makes that useless, you will just have to sit still while I patch you up.”

“I failed her.” He said quietly while she tied off the stitch. “She looked at me as her hero for some reason, and when she needed me I was useless.”

Angeline put a hand on his shoulder, “it's not your fault, and I was the one who didn't think a harmless kiss would make her think we both betrayed her. It is my fault she ran away. It's my fault she was caught.”

“We have to get her back.” He said, his voice deflated. She could tell he was still blaming himself. He looked up at the Kingsblade, “how do we get her back?”

The knight yawned, still shaking off the magical sleep that befell him and dozens of townspeople. “It's the Holy Legion, attacking would be a fool's errand.”

“Are you ok, Woagn?” Angeline asked, quickly getting up and striding over to him. She looked into his eyes while putting her hand on his armored bicep.

“I don't remember even hearing her voice, just that everything suddenly went black. I don't even remember dreaming.” He replied, patting her hand with his. “Such an awesome ability. Who could stand against such a thing? She could immobilize armies.”

“She is not a weapon.” Xerro said, annoyed at knowing what was on their mind, using her to solve their kingdom's problem. “She is a person, she's just a little girl.”

“We know Xerro.” Said Angeline, “we care for her too you know. Don't we Wogan?” She turned to the knight.

“How could I not care about anything you love, my lady?” He replied.

Xerro watched this façadeed exchange of affection between the two, and saw his opportunity. “How would you do it, Wogan, if they had taken Angeline, how would you get her back”

“Xerro!” The princess scolded, his audacity to bring up their forbidden feelings caused her to lash out. But she quickly realized how hurt he was to do that.

“The temple would already be burning,” the knight replied, never taking his eyes off of her. “I wouldn't care if I couldn't hurt them, I'd find a way.” As he spoke he recognized the hypocrisy in his words. They expected Xerro to be calm and wait, but the Kingsblade would have rained hell upon them without hesitation or a second thought, if it were her.

“You can.” A sharp edge had returned to the lad's voice. “If I am with you. You can hurt them all you want. If I am beside you.”

“Until we are surrounded and you are killed. Then they are unbeatable again.” Wogan countered.

A knock at the door to their room caused a sudden end to the conversation. Angeline opened it to discover Father Thaddeus waiting in the hall. He dispensed with niceties, pushing his way into the room.

“I've seen her. I know where she is being held, and I have no desire to see her suffer for his ego.” He spoke in a rushed manner, as if time was of the essence, something Xerro picked up on instantly.

“What is he planning to do with her?” He asked, the priest could see the rage barely kept in check behind his eyes.

“I think he believes he can finally quell the fear and unrest in the populace by executing her tonight.”

“Wogan, we have to go now!” Xerro cried, getting up from the sofa and heading to the door.

The knight caught his arm, “I understand your desire, and even your plan, but you are not a warrior. You are not trained and are at risk if I drag you onto the battlefield. Are you willing to die trying to rescue her?”

He leaned in close to the big man's ear and whispered, “wouldn't you… for her?” he jerked his head toward the princess.

“Fine.” Said Wogan, following as Xerro resumed his stride to the door.

“Wogan wait,” cried Angeline, “are you two seriously doing this? And without me?” She stood there indignantly.

“It's dangerous enough with having to protect Xerro, you need to stay here and be safe.” he stated, and closed the door behind him.

“Oh no!” She said, stomping toward the door, only to have father Thaddeus catch her arm.

“I think we can help.” The priest said, “there are a few people in the legion who are more loyal to Margriete than Ambrose. She has cared for them all their lives.”

“Like Pratchett?” She smiled, remembering the Sergeant from the other day. “The legionnaire that led us to her from the bridge.”

“Yes, and if we were to help them free her they may aid us in rescuing the girl.” He hung his head, “I did not think when this week began by the end of it I would be tearing the church apart in revolution.” Tears formed in the corners of the priest's eyes. She realized this was painful to him. “We have been friends for as long as I can recall, Ambrose, Margriete and I came up through the church together. Now my friend is gone, twisted by pride and ambition. It wasn't just Ambrose that Delilah came to see just before the cataclysm. She came to me before she faced Ambrose, to confess. To admit to their relationship, and to confess that she was with child.” The tears would not be stopped now. “I didn't think my friend could do something as monstrous as what he plans to do to that child. To… his child. Delilah told me the child was his. He is so consumed with erasing his mistake, so consumed that he would consider his child a mistake, he has become more the monster than she was turned into. But from that day he has wielded the power of the gods, and I don't know how they could have supported what he did, when I can not stomach the thought of it.”

The princess pulled him down, kissing the top of the man's head, “give me a moment to change, father, and we will rescue sister Margriete.”

The legionnaires drug the child up the stairs to the temple. The noon mass had ended and all the people were leaving as the light of Amon was disappearing across the skylight of the temple. Captain Longinus waited at the bottom of the steps to the altar. As the Archbishop was putting away the last of the holy items from the rituals, he pondered what was about to transpire at sunset.

“So how does killing this girl make us finally safe from the horrors of the chasm?” He asked. “Not that I doubt your wisdom, your Grace.”

Ambrose sighed, “she is the daughter of Delilah, the queen of monsters. When her blood spills the curse her mother put upon Adelphi will end.” He descended the steps and put a hand gingerly under the man's chin, “and tomorrow, my angelic Longinus, you will march the full force of the legionnaires into the pit and wipe out every monster down there from the face of the world.”

“Then with the monsters in the pit no longer a threat, we can begin the crusade to purge all those who do not live in the light of Amon from the continent.” The captain said with hungry eyes. He was picturing bloody battles and glorious victory all in the name of Amon.

“Yes my boy,” Ambrose cooed, “you will spread the glory of Amon, and Adelphi will cover the continent.”

The soldiers arrived dragging Melodie with them. Tears still running down her cheeks from raw eyes. Ambrose stepped up to the girl with a smile that sucked the hope from her soul.

He presented a dagger in his hands, golden and bejeweled, “when the sun sets, my dear, I will use this dagger to send your soul to the abyss to join your mother's.”

Xerro and Wogan ran across the bridge to the temple. Xerro was still pondering how he would get them in alive to rescue Melodie when a shop sign on the bridge town caught his eye.

“Wait,” he said with a pull on the knight's arm, “I have an idea.” He pointed at the apothecary sign, “I used to work with a magician, he did real magic but he also had a few tricks too, what he called to enhance the experience. I think it might just help keep us alive longer.”

“We don't have a lot of time, Xerro!” He called out.

“I won't need long.” He replied as the knight paced back and forth on the bridge.

The door had one of those little bells on the corner that rang when Xerro entered. The man behind the counter had a mustache so greasy it looked like it was painted on.

“Hello,” he smiled with teeth that seemed too large for his mouth. “What can I help you with?” He had a habit of continuing to exhale after he stopped talking, dragging the last syllable out along his breath.

“I just need a few ingredients,” he replied, and some clay pots.”

“Of course, what ingredients do you need and how much.”

“I need a dozen pots, a pound of dried gull droppings, a pound of powdered gypsum, a half pound of sugar, and do you have vials of dragon urine?” He asked the man nonchalantly.

“The man didn't blink, in fact he wasn't sure if he had blinked since Xerro entered the store, “oh yes, all that, but only one vial of the urine.”

“Do you have half gram vials?” He asked.

The man nodded, “oh yes, for small purchases.”

“Can you divide the urine into twelve of the little vials and place them in the pots along with some of the mixture of the other items?” Xerro smiled, wondering if the man had worked out what he was making.

“There is a danger of combustion if the vials break.” he responded, still smiling. Xerro wondered if the man's face was made of wax.

“I'm counting on it, sir.” Then he pondered for a moment, “you don't happen to have powered goblyn dung do you?”

“Fresh in earlier this week,” he winked in such a direct fashion that Xerro wondered if it didn't take him extra effort to do so. “I must say it's still a bit pungent though. It usually takes time to… settle.”

“Oh, I wouldn't want it to.” Said Xerro, “can you add half a gram to each of the pots?”

“Will do, sir.” he smiled. “That comes to two sovereigns, three slivers even.”

Xerro pulled out Wogan's money pouch that the knight didn't notice he had borrowed and produced the coins. “How long will this take?”

“About twenty minutes,” he replied, “I must warn you, the dung is considered a controlled substance around here.”

“Oh, no problem.” Smiled Xerro, “this order is for the legionnaires specifically.”

“Took you long enough,” Wogan complained.

Xerro just tossed the knight's pouch back to him and continued across the bridge. He didn't even wait to see Wogan's reaction, they had a girl to save.

Angeline stepped onto the church's official coach, she had left behind the tiara and her gowns for high leather riding boots, pants and a corset over a flowing white linen blouse. She had tied her hair back in a tail and strapped Wogan's dress sword to her hip. She felt ready to take action for once, instead of a damsel waiting for it.

With a snap of the reins they were off, and headed for the bridge. The sergeant and his contemporaries often met at the bar on the bridge where her negotiations with Sister Margriete had occurred.

“Are you sure you want to be involved in this, princess?” Father Thaddeus asked with a worried look.

“Believe me, father,” she smiled a grin that put him at unease, “I have been waiting for something like this for so long.”

There were four legionnaires at the gate to Adelphi proper as Xerro and Wogan approached.

“Do you have a plan?” Asked Wogan.

“Intimidation,” Xerro said with a smile.

“And how exactly does one intimidate men who are magically invincible?” Wogan asked.

“You will have to be a little stabby.” he winked.

“Halt,” commanded the legionnaire as they approached.

“We are here to see the Archbishop,” Xerro said flatly, “stand aside.”

The man's face was a visage of pure confusion, “I… I'm not sure you get how this works…”

“I do, I just do not care.” Xerro gestured at the knight, “I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you do not recognise the Dark Wyvern.” he gave a grand gesture at Wogan's longsword. “It is a legendary sword of heroes, capable of cutting through any magical enchantments and rendering the toughest adversaries vulnerable.”

“Cutting through magic?” the soldier sneered, “Don't make me laugh.”

Xerro let out a deep sigh, stepping up to the man to look him eye to eye, “sir Wogan, poke him please.”

The big man rolled his eyes, withdrawing his sword from its scabbard and gave a quick thrust.

The legionnaires did not wear armor. Wogan understood why, if you were invincible anyway, wearing armor simply restricted your movements and slowed you down. The Adelphi Legion instead wore a uniform. A white double breasted coat with golden filigree and buttons, white breeches and golden boots and a shining golden helmet, they must absolutely sparkle on a sunny battlefield. Which Wogan would assume, when you represent the church of the god of light, was the point. The primary problem of not wearing actual armor was if you lost your invulnerability, which the man because he was standing next to Xerro had, you are completely vulnerable.

The guard held an eye lock with Xerro as Wogan pulled his blade back. The smile on the man's face slowly fell and was replaced by a look of surprise. He looked down at his side as the red spot continued to spread out on the white material like a flower blooming. He touched his side and brought up in front of his face fingers covered in blood. Wide eyed fear overcame not only his face, but that of the other three guards as well.

“Now you know he can hurt you, and he is a Kingsblade on top of that, do you really want to stand in our way?”

The injured man ran off almost immediately, his companions put on a halfway decent show of holding weapons on them as they hastily backed away.

“We better move,” grumbled Wogan, “they will be sounding an alarm very quickly.”

The pair ran through the gate and into the courtyard. They hadn't run more than a dozen yards before the trumpets could be heard. Legionnaires filed into the courtyard from various entrances to the temple. A dozen guards along the wall leveled crossbows at the pair.

“Are we to hope those quarrels are magic?”said Wogan dryly.

Xerro pulled a small, wax topped clay pot from his pouch, “this is where I enhance the experience.” And lobbed the pot, letting it smash against the top of the wall. When the pot broke, as did the vial of dragon urine. The liquid ignited the powder mixture, and in a quick flash of light the air was filled with thick yellow smoke. Xerro hurled several more in quick succession along the wall behind them. The wall was soon filled with not only the smoke but the sounds of soldiers screaming and coughing.

“What is in those pots?” Wogan asked.

“Besides a few choice ingredients,” answered Xerro, “they might include some powdered goblyn dung.”

Wogan gave a quick look over his shoulder, “you evil bastard.”

The squads of legionnaires before them could only gape in awe as their crossbow support along the wall suddenly devolved into gagging and retching.

Xerro flung a pot at each of the three main groupings on the ground. As the smoke rolled over the armies, one soldier up front immediately vomited up his recent lunch.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Captain Horsant, astride a white charger, began hollering out commands trying to keep his men in formation while moving them around the drifting smoke. Wogan took instant advantage of this, dragging Xerro behind him through a gap in the troops and the smoke, engaging a few of the surprised soldiers head on. Blocking the first's sword with his shield and battering that man's shield to the side, he drove his knee into the legionnaire's sternum and bashed him over the head with the edge of his shield. Stepping over the man and immediately engaging the next he called back to Xerro, “take the shield, those archers will soon recover and we will be sitting targets.”

Xerro picked up the metal disk and no sooner than he stood up was set upon by a legionnaire who decided to charge right through the haze. His eyes watered and he swung his sword wild at whatever blur was in front of him. Xerro swatted away the blade with a swing of the shield and quickly kicked the man where his legs met. The man howled and Xerro struck him under the chin with the shield. As the man fell the lad could finally put the shield on his arm as it was meant to be.

As the carriage approached the temple gate, the wall looked like it was on fire. Thick yellow smoke rolled off the top of the wall, and it filled the courtyard where sounds of battle could be heard ringing across the parade grounds. Angeline knew the sounds of fighting could only be Wogan and Xerro, ”Sergeant Pratchett, you and your men are needed now.” she called out to the troop of men marching beside her conveyance. “We will see to setting free Sister Margriete.”

The men charged onto the field, avoiding the mysterious clouds drifting around the grounds. Her meeting with the loyals to the sister had been surprisingly fruitful. Pratchett and others like him were dissatisfied with the growing ego of the Archbishop, and were ready for the church to return to service to the public over glory. The Archbishop apparently had been planning some crusade to bring the continent under heel. Only the threat from the chasm had kept his plans from proceeding. Angeline felt it ironic that a deep pit full of dangerous monsters was the only thing keeping the madness of one man's ego from consuming the world. It seemed to her that the gods really did move events and people about like chess pieces.

As the carriage stopped by a side entrance to the temple, the princess and the priest dashed inside. They made their way to the dungeons, walking unmolested by the priests and other clergy in the temple. It seemed the business of the day trumped a massive fight outside the temple or people being where they oughtn't. The guards at the top of the stairs didn't bother to stop Father Thaddeus, Angeline could tell even though they all feared Ambrose, everyone respected Thaddeus. That he might be about to do something against the wishes of the Archbishop seemed inconceivable to them. As Margriete had said before, Thaddeus WAS the church. Ambrose was a symbol, powerful and terrible, but when everyone thought about what the church should be, they thought of Thaddeus.

They reached the cells and the priest had Angeline wait in an alcove. The man strode purposefully up to the guards at her cell, “what the devil are you still doing here? Did you not hear the alarms? Adelphi is under attack. You should be up there, defending the temple.” The guards exchanged confused glances, but Thaddeus pressed the issue, “Don't just stand there, go!”

The two soldiers immediately ran to the stairs, not even giving Angeline a glance as they passed. When she reached the cell Thaddeus had already retrieved a set of keys and was unlocking the door.

“Thad, what are you doing?” The motherly lady protested. “If I am freed it will just anger him more.”

There is no time Margie,” he protested, “he means to kill the girl. He will murder his own daughter, just as he had her mother murdered. Amon will surely be furious. We must stop him.”

“The Sacrifice of Sundown?” She asked.

“I believe so.”

“Then there is no time to lose, the hour is nearly upon us.” She stepped out of the cell and noticed Angeline, “hello princess. This is not how I expected things to turn out. I had hoped helping you would mean your help in a coup in a few years from now. I guess you don't like to waste time.”

“Sister, my knight and my friend are fighting to reach the girl.” Angeline stated as they ran for the steps, “I only hope we are not too late to help them as well as save the girl.”

Wogan and Xerro wove skillfully through the smoke and the platoons of soldiers. The path kept meandering too far from the temple for his taste. The sun was setting fast and they were still averaging a step back for every step forward. Wogan was surprised how far they had gotten, the legionnaires were legendary warriors but it seemed their magical invulnerability played more of a hand in their notoriety than their actual skill. How good a fighter did you have to be when you couldn't be hurt? Now add in having their confidence shaken by Xerro rendering them vulnerable and Wogan felt like he was battling through cadets still in training. He was parrying unsure strikes and sweeping their legs out from under them with his shield. The knight had taken to pummeling them with his sword hilt instead of cutting and stabbing with the blade, having no reason to slaughter these poor souls.

The sounds of fighting, that didn't involve them, could be heard through the smoke. As one bank of haze cleared you could see legionnaire fighting legionnaire. As the two converged with the in-fighting, Wogan recognized Sergeant Pratchett among the fighting.

“Sir Wogan,” he called out over his shoulder, “Sister Margriete sends her support.” Pratchett said, deftly parrying blows from his fellow legionnaires.

A crossbow quarrel rebounded off Xerro's shield, he looked over at Captain Horsant reloading his crossbow from the back of his galloping charger. Xerro glanced up at the sun, slowly sinking toward the top of the wall. He looked over at his shoulder. The temple was designed with three large windows in its roof set directly in the path of the daily travel of the sun. Each was designed to catch its light at the apex of sunrise, high noon and sunset. The sunset window in the roof of the temple was beginning to illuminate by its position. Time was almost up.

One of Pratchett's men knocked one of his contemporaries to the ground, and Xerro took advantage of his condition to snatch the Holy symbol of Amon off his neck and pick up the double pronged spear he was wielding.

“We're running out of time.” He said to his partner as he rejoined his place at his back. Xerro turned and held the amulet outstretched in his hands, He had to hop on his tiptoes to drop the pendant over Wogan's neck. “In case we get seperated.”

“This won't help you.” He called back.

“I don't plan to be here.” He replied, as he deflected another bolt from the captain and muttered, “but first.” Xerro leveled the spear over his shoulder, calculated and flung the weapon a little ahead of the horse's path. The fact that it flew straight and true was more than Xerro expected, the fact that it hit four feet too soon in front of Horsant was about on par with what Xerro would expect. What was completely unexpected was that Horsant was so busy reloading the crossbow he ran full gallop into the spear shaft and impacted with it directly across his face. Invulnerable or not, the force of the collision took the captain out of the saddle to land unconsciously on the ground with a dull, loud thump. Xerro decided right there if he were to ever regale anyone with this story he would make sure to note that outcome was intentional.

Xerro broke into a run across the grounds, a detail Wogan wouldn't catch onto until his next hilt punch neglected to result in a bloody nose. Xerro arrived at the captain as well as his confused mount and taking the reins, pulled himself atop the horse, rubbing its neck to calm the animal. With a click of the tongue and a light heel kick he had set the steed once more into a run. He guided it past the wall and using the horse's momentum, gripped the spear tight, yanking it back out of the wall.

Ok Xerro, he thought to himself, this will work… or it won't. The lad kicked the horse into its top speed and guided it straight at the balcony the Archbishop used to observe the troops.

With a strong exhale, Xerro pushed himself to a standing position on the horse's saddle. Scant feet from the balcony, he tugged the reins to one side, diverting the horse and dropping the leather straps to grip the spear in both hands as he drove it into the dirt. The momentum as he dropped off the horse's back and bent the wooden shaft of the spear, sent him forward as the shaft, desperate to return to being straight, magnified the force even more, the shaft snapped as it reached its zenith, sending Xerro flying over the handrail and onto the stones of the overlook, face first.

“Ow,” he remarked, picking himself up, wiping the blood trickling from his nostril on the back of his hand. He was soon dashing into the temple to the cheers of Wogan and their loyal legionnaires.

He took the shield off his back, putting his arm through the straps as he entered the temple. Across the gathering floor he could see Melodie bound, gagged, somewhat mutilated and miserable. Two guards held her in chains at the foot of the steps to the altar. Another stood just on a few steps up from the floor watching the Archbishop perform the ritual. The ritual that he would complete by murdering her.

“Get away from her!” He screamed, “let her go! Now!” Xerro was quite surprised by the sound of his own voice. True, the acoustics in the temple hall must have magnified it in volume, but as his own voice rang back at him he could hear how he had put the whole of his anger into his words. Anger at them for what they planned to do to her, at how they had treated her, but also his anger at himself. At himself for letting her down, letting her feel betrayed by him, for not protecting her as he should have, for… and the thought itself caught in his mind, not letting her know she meant as much to him as he obviously did to her.

The anger in his voice was so potent in fact, that the Archbishop was so surprised it interrupted the prayer for the ritual.

“My boy,” he said, much too calm for Xerro's comfort, “see what you've done? Now I have to start over.” He looked to Longinus, “Captain, please kill this boy, whoever he happens to be.”

Longinus started down the stairs as Melodie rushed away from the guards toward Xerro, her arms being jerked painfully when the soldiers did not budge being both stronger, and many times her weight. Still she pulled the chains taught with all her might, as her eyes begged to him through rivers of tears.

“Melodie, it's going to be alright.” Xerro said, trying desperately to sound brave enough to calm her fears. “I'm going to save you.”

“Aw,” teased Longinus, as the two approached one another across the floor. “You must be the boy my scouts told me about. The one that hardly ever left her side.” The legionnaire unsheathed his sword, and as he got nearer Xerro could tell he was not as large as Wogan, thankfully. “Are you her boyfriend then?”

“Maybe,” he answered, not as annoyed with the title as he had been previously, “whether I am or not doesn't matter, what I am, is taking her out of those doors with me.”

“You are not even armed, foolish boy,” Longinus laughed, “you won't leave here alive!” As he punctuated his last word with a charge at Xerro, blade slicing through the air.

Xerro brought the shield up with both arms stopping the sword, but he was quick and strong. He swung the disk back and forth, sending sparks flying as the metal of both collided over and over. Xerro was sure, judging by his laugh, he was holding back, toying with him. But he was also sure he would soon render his defense useless unless Xerro acted fast. As Longinus swung overhead next, Xerro dropped to one knee. And as he blocked, taking advantage as the legionnaire swung his sword back around for another strike, to drive the shield down, as hard as he could on the man's boot, then quickly stood, catching the edge under the man's chin.

The captain of the legionnaires screamed. Long and whining, as he fell back on his rump, sword clattering to the floor and holding his foot.

“Your Grace! It hurts! My lord, how can he hurt me? I'm supposed to be invincible!” he screamed and cried through the blood dripping from his mouth. A grown man, a commander of an army, crying like a toddler. Xerro realized what he was looking at was someone so sheltered, so swaddled behind magic and divine protection, that this was the first time he had ever really felt pain. It was completely new to him and he didn't comprehend how to deal with it. He was falling back on a person's first instinct they have with pain, from infancy, bawling.

Xerro acted quickly, stepping up to the wailing man-child, and drove the shield over his head. Longinus slumped to the floor, out cold. He looked over at the proud legionnaires still holding Melodie. Their faces were a blend of confusion and fear. A puddle in fact, was gathering around the feet of one of the men.

“I suggest you leave, before I'm forced to kill you both.” He practically growled at the men. The guards were nearly out the temple before her chains rattled to the ground.

Melodie, now unheld, met him as he ran to her, wrapping his arms around her. In the comforting protection of his curse, the runes in her muzzle faded, the silence shattered, and she could hear his voice talking to her, “I am so sorry, Angeline's kiss meant nothing, I promise. I… I will get you out of here, and I will never… never let you out of my sight again.” He blubbered, as he unbuckled the bindings from her arms, letting them fall to the floor.

“No. Don't.” cried Ambrose, as he hurried down the steps, “you can't let her free! No my son, you don't know what you're doing!”

Melodie clawed at the muzzle as Xerro worked frantically at the near dozen buckles, The Archbishop's words ignored and unheeded. “Hang on, almost… got it,” he whispered gently, smiling at her. The last buckle came free, and the heavy mask fell forward, a thick leather ball mounted on its inside sliding wetly from her mouth with a pop. Her jade eyes shining with joy and tears as a smile slowly grew on her face looking into his.

Then it fell away. Her face went blank in shock as Ambrose's hand appeared over her shoulder plunging the ceremonial knife into her chest. The Archbishop fell back as he released the knife and Melody collapsed into Xerro's arms. His knees gave out and they both sank to the floor.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He cried, as she choked and gasped, making a clicking sound through the blood rising in her throat as the beautiful light that he had always seen shining in her eyes faded away. “No, please. Melodie no. You can't die.” He sobbed, hugging her to him tightly. His tears fell on her face as he wept, “no, please. I have to save you. You can't die, please.”

He became aware of something attempting to pull her away from him. Xerro's throat released a growl as he fought back against whatever was trying to steal her from him.

“Xerro!” The face of Angeline broke through the haze of his grief and fury, calling to him. “Xerro?”

“Angeline!” He cried, attempting to pass Melodie to her. “Heal her, please, you have to heal her. Please!”

“Xerro,” she said softly, her own tears welling up in her eyes, “Xerro I can't. I'm sorry, I can't. Xerro, she's gone.”

Sister Margriete reached out and closed Melodie's eyes, “my poor child. This was not a fate you deserved.” She said and began a prayer.

Father Thaddeus could only stand there, staring at the murdered girl. He turned to the Archbishop, struggling back to his feet, “Ambrose. What have you done?”

“Done? What have I done?” He screamed, “he was removing her gag!” He pointed at Xerro as he retreated up the steps. “He was going to let her kill us all! I had to act, to protect all of Adelphi! One word from her lips would have killed us all!”

“Her curse doesn't kill!” Screamed Xerro. “She just puts people to sleep! You killed her for no reason, you bastard!”

“I am the will of Amon.” Ambrose cried from the altar, “through his will my actions are righteous!” He held up his arms and the tip of his staff gowed once again, “and if you are against me, you are against him! And so his wrath will smite you all!”

A searing column of light erupted from above them and everything in the temple was obscured in the white glow. The laughter that echoed in the church could only be described as maniacal.

People often argue over defining particular types of laughter. What makes a laugh maniacal over simply raucous or joyful. But there was no mistaking it that day. The maniacal laughter of Ambrose filled the halls. But as the light faded the laughter abruptly stopped. In gathering around Melodie's body, they were gathered around Xerro. As the light receded, no one gathered on the floor of the temple was in the slightest bit harmed.

“It… it's not… possible.” Ambrose stammered, as Xerro stood up.

“By Amon!” Thaddeus exclaimed. “How is it that we are still alive?”

Angeline, still cradling Melodie's body in her lap, tears still damp on her cheeks, managed a slight smile, “because anything multiplied by Xerro is zero.”

Xerro pulled the knife from her chest and with it clutched white knuckled in his fist, began walking toward the steps to Ambrose, his eyes a cold visage of determination and rage, “you! You will come down here and you will bring her back. Now! Or so help me I will beat you to death myself!”

“Insolent whelp,” Ambrose screamed, emboldened by this boy who would be so brazen, “I can call down the powers of the heavens and destroy you!”

The noon window rained down glass shards that were vaporized as the lightning bolt summoned by the Archbishop clashed against Xerro's null field. And still the boy walked forward. A barrier of white hot flames lined the bottom step only to fizzle out as Xerro walked through it. Three giant swords that looked as if made from pure sunlight appeared rotating over Ambrose's head and he sent them at Xerro. They, as well, vanished as they neared the boy. Spells of attack, barrier spells, curses and everything Ambrose could conjure died as soon as they neared Xerro.

Wogan arrived from the battleground to see his princess with the lifeless body of the girl in her lap. He touched her ragged hair, “poor kid. I'm so sorry Angeline,” He said sadly before the boom of the mystic battle unfolding snatched his attention. “Merciful heavens! We have to stop this or he's going to kill him.”

“He can't touch Xerro.” Angeline said, with what Wogan felt was a little more malice than he was used to from his princess.

“It's Xerro that I'm afraid will do the killing.” He said, “Do you want to see our friend a murderer?”

“Do you think he'd really kill him?” Angeline was now shaken from her own anger, and now concerned for her friend.

“If it were you lying there,” he said, “I would.”

Ambrose was cowered against the altar, still blindly trying to throw spells, the light in his staff having long since faded as the boy stepped up to him. Xerro snatched the ineffectual staff from the man and in his rage, drove it down on top of the altar. The gemstone on its tip shattered, as the stone, it turned out, was ever only common glass. It was always the single tear of an angel inside that gave it power. Unperceived, the tiny drop of liquid that was inside flew and splattered on the nearby stone and evaporated.

Xerro tossed aside the sundered staff, grabbed the man by his robes and drove his fist across Ambrose's face, “Bring her back!” Another punch and the Archbishop was bleeding from his nose. “Bring her back, now!”

“I can't, I can't.” The man blubbered.

Still holding the man by the robes, Xerro began dragging him down the marble steps toward Melodie. Ambrose bounced and thumped halfway down the stairs until Wogan stopped the boy.

“Xerro, listen to the man.” Wogan crouched down beside the beaten man, “if you can bring the girl back to life, I suggest you do before the boy kills you.”

“I can't, don't you see, I never could. It was the gem. The Tear of Heaven. The gods never listened to me, I stole divine power. And now I couldn't call their favor if I tried.

“Ambrose, how could you?” Gasped Thaddeus. “You lied, all these years? You set the church back decades. No one was learning the higher prayers because you were doing them! What have you done!”

“What has he done?” Screamed Xerro, “he killed her! He killed Melodie and you dare to talk about what he did to the church?”

“He will be imprisoned for that, I assure you. What he did was far worse than you realize.” Thaddeus said with a heavy heart. But it was Margriete that spoke the rest for him.

“Melodie was his daughter, Xerro.” She said, as she drew the boy into her arms and held him as he shook. “Ambrose and Delilah were lovers, when he was just a friar. She was their daughter.”

“On the day of cataclysm, she went to him to tell him she was pregnant. It all makes sense now.” Thaddeus continued as he looked at his former friend writhing on the ground as his sins could no longer be denied, “he spurned her and cursed her with the Tear. Amon punished us with the cataclysm for letting it happen. But he spun it all to his advantage and has spent fourteen years trying to keep it covered up.”

Xerro looked at Melodie, still being held by the princess, then the man cowering on the steps at his feet. “YOU are the monster.” He spat as he drove his foot into Ambrose's ribs. He then turned and looked at Thaddeus, “can you bring her back?”

The priest was a picture of shame, “I regret to admit that no one else in the church has mastered the advanced spells. We didn't think we needed to because we thought Ambrose was all we required. We let him convince us he was all we needed. It was irresponsible and stupid of us.”

Margriete took his hand in her’s and pulled his chin to face her, “Thad, you can try. Please, for her, for us all. Try.”

Father Thaddeus knelt before the girl in Angeline's lap, placed his hands on her body, and began the prayers. Xerro stood far back, fearing he would interfere with the magic. And the father prayed and he prayed, until eventually the sun had been down for hours and still Melodie lay there lifeless. “I am sorry my son,” he gasped exhausted, “I have not the experience to find her soul and guide it back. And with the staff broken, no one does.”

Xerro looked back at the broken stick and shattered gem, and realized in a moment of rage, he ruined any chance of saving her. He had failed her once again. He then walked over and took Melodie from Angeline. Without a word he carried the girl out the doors of the temple and into the night.

Angeline stood to follow when Wogan caught her arm. “Let him be. He needs to grieve as he sees fit. We will find him eventually. For now we let him be.”

The legionnaires were eventually brought up to speed, though it took a great deal of convincing. Ambrose was arrested and the princess and her knight were thanked.

“For what?” Asked Angeline, she was on the verge of tears again, “we ruined your church, set Adelphi into chaos and Melodie died. We made a mess.”

“My child,” Margriete gave her a hug to soothe her, “you exposed a heretic in control of the church, revealed a mystery over a decade old and purified an evil festering in the church. And I believe we were destined to meet your friend. I for one choose to believe that there is more to Amon's plan behind him than anyone realizes. And we will rebuild. Everything Ambrose could do with that wretched stick Amon grants to those who prove their faith. We will rise back up, Thad and I just have some studying to do.”

“And we need to choose a new Archbishop.” Thaddeus added.

Margaret laughed and Angeline could not keep from joining her, “we already have one.” She said, placing a hand on his chest. “I have been telling you for years it should have always been you. We will set a pack of initiates on that mountain of paperwork in your office, you will be busy with other responsibilities.”

His look was one of confusion, but he did not argue. He knew better than to try and contradict sister Margriete.

Xerro was not at the inn when Angeline and Wogan arrived. They searched both towns and the bridge, upper and lower. They found him just before sunrise outside of town. He had dug a hole under a tree, near a stream far from the road that tumbled over some stones. He had laid her in it and set the dagger over her heart. He knelt there looking down on her, tears from an entire night of weeping dried in his cheeks.

“She will guard it so no one will ever be taken by it again, I figure.” He said as the two walked up behind him. “I promised she would see the world, so…” He ran his arm under his nose as he sniffed in a long wet snuffle, “So I just couldn't leave her in the city. I had to take her somewhere she hadn't gone yet.”

Angeline knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him, “I'm so sorry Xerro. It is not fair. She did not deserve this.”

“She did not, but I think I did.” He said, morosely.

“Xerro! Why?” She cried. “Why would you, of all people, deserve to hurt?”

He looked at the princess, she was mad but he knew she did not understand, “because I have spent my life on the run. In fear, taking care of only me. Then I decide to let someone into my life and fate, life, the gods, whatever you want to label it decides to remind me of why I have to run. She wanted to be part of my life and because of that she lost hers.”

“Xerro, that isn't true,” Angeline protested, “the universe did not take her away, that bastard was hunting her her whole life because his position was more important than his own daughter. And you could never have left her down there, so stop thinking that. Her death is HIS fault, no one else's.”

“I appreciate your point, princess. Really I do. But I knew I was putting her at risk by keeping her with me. Even if this was her fate, my actions sped up the result.” He put his arms around her and returned her hug “Thank you princess, for your hospitality and friendship, but once I finish burying her it is here we will part ways. I am not safe for you to know.”

“Xerro…” she began, but Wogan cut her off.

“Do you want some help?” The big man asked.

Xerro shook his head, “thank you, it is my task, she was my responsibility.”

“Then can you do me the favor of keeping guard of the princess. I must do something back in town before she and I leave as well.”

“Not something rash,” Angeline asked, confused.

“No my lady, just something that really should be done.” And he rode off.

When the Kingsblade returned the hole was gone, and she and Xerro stood looking at it, her head on his shoulder. He knew grieving together would be good for them both. A wagon rolled up behind Wogan. It was small enough to navigate the trees but hardy enough to bear the load borne by the heavy draft horse that pulled it. Six men dismounted from the wagon and carried over a slab of stone. They worked for almost an hour placing it at the head of the plot. And with not a word left again, with just a bow of their heads to Xerro.

The lad looked at the slab, fine white marble, and on it was written,

“Melodie

A Shining Light

from a Pit of Darkness

A True and Loved Friend

Who Will Forever Be Missed”

Xerro, who thought his tears had all dried, wept once again.

“Oh, Wogan.” gasped Angeline, as she pushed herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It's wonderful.”

“She was a wonderful girl, Xerro. And yes I miss her too.” The big man said softly. “She touched us all. She was good, and pure and we are better for knowing her.”

“Thank you buddy.” Xerro said and clasped the big man's arm with his, shaking it. Then he even let Xerro hug him.

They walked back to the road together, and when they arrived Xerro noticed there were three horses now. Besides Angeline's white mare and Wogan's black war horse was a white and brown stallion.

“She's yours,” the princess told him, noticing his confusion. “No more walking for you.”

“I can't just leave with a horse that you bought.” Xerro protested.

“You aren't.” She replied from her saddle.

“I told you this is where we part ways, your highness.” He reiterated.

“No.” She replied, in her tone that stated ‘this is not an option, this is a royal command’. “You do not need to be alone right now. You are hurt. You still need time to grieve. Until you do you will be off your game and you will certainly be caught. So until you are at a point where you can keep your mind as sharp as it was in that tavern where we met, you are going to stick with us. This is not up for debate. Am I clear, Xerro?”

He smiled at the princess, all flashing blue eyes and haughty demeanor, “yes, my lady.” He pulled himself up onto the horse and the three rode down the road, headed toward Amberwyben.