Pious men need never fear the dark. That shadow, the cast of absence on this tired world is only the receptacle for redemption. Praise the darkness, then…for it will always mean you can light a torch and banish it back.
Malwin awoke for the first time in years. He blinked and for a moment, thought he still was blind. But the gloom came to inhabit his sightless eyes and as his pupils widened, he became aware of the dungeon. Dank and decrepit, the catacombs of the Church were a well documented mystery in Gothenheim. No priest made any illusion that the Cathedral had avenues and corridors cut of rock beneath its grand construction, however few could tell you exactly what was there. Malwin knew, once, when his father served the Church. Here, away from the redemption of the sun, they kept the unrepentant, the traitors, the tainted, and the criminals. Not all men walked to the gallows first. Many were sent to the catacombs to reflect on their sins, to reveal information, and then to die with dignity.
His arms and legs were chained, heavy steel manacles strapped across his pale flesh. The bandages across his chest ached whenever he tried to breath but, strangely, he was not in the amount of pain he should have felt. The wound had healed remarkably…perhaps a testament to how long he'd been down here. Surely the clergy had no use to heal a traitor, did they?
"Finally awake, poisoner."
Malwin craned his head painfully, catching glimpse of the figure in shadows shackled to the back wall. It was Kael, one of the traitors from the Wounded Hand. Kael who had served with the Fateguard nobly before, Kael who had lost his mind…or at least that's what he'd been told, and little at that.
"Kael," his voice was dusty so he coughed and spoke again. "Kael, I did not expect to see you again."
"Nor I you," The former Fateguard said with a slight smile, "At least not without your bandages. Had your guest removed, did you?"
"You knew?" The thought was like fingers of bone dragging down the nape of his neck.
"Arcanium knew."
Arcanium. Why was that name so damnedly familiar?
Malwin raised his hands, letting them fall to his lap dejectedly. If he was imprisoned with the traitor, he would be executed with the traitor as well. He would be questioned about the Rove Maw, found to be corrupted, and then killed. His fate, like so many others the Church found wanting, was to pay for his sins in the moments before his neck snapped…or he died from asphyxiation. Never burning anymore, the people wanted a spectacle that didn't scream. They heard enough of those in the night.
"Why?" He asked the words not expecting an answer
"I saw the monolith." Kael said simply, as if that explained everything.
"What is the monolith?"
Kael sighed, shaking his head. "Malwin, of all the rest…I thought you might be able to see. How disappointing."
"See what?"
"Truth," Kael told him with a chuckle, "The Monolith is Truth…but you'll see that soon enough. Even if you haven'" Kael shrank further back into the shadows and there was a sound like twisting metal, clangs, and the man dropped from the wall, rubbing his wrists. There was no sound of guards in the corridor, no alert of watchful sentries. Kael moved across the cell with ease, stopping in front of Malwin and squatting to look the poisoner in the eye. Although it was dark, Malwin could see something burning there…in the depths of Kael. He recognized, for an instant, a familiar darkness before Kael ruffled Malwin's hair.
"Time for me to move along. I guess Arcanium can be mistaken at times…a shame, I thought we'd be comrades again." His hand moved down to pat Malwin on the cheek lightly. The locks sprang and the manacles opened, freeing Malwin.
"How?" he questioned, looking down at his wrists, at the metal that had willingly obeyed without commands, without keys, without…anything.
"If you free yourself from here," Kael wryly smiled, "Tell the Fateguard that the appointed time is drawing near. Tell them to treasure the next sunrise, for it will be their last."
Malwin stood swiftly, pushing aside the pain of his injury to swing at Kael. The nimble archer easily sidestepped, grabbing Malwin's arm and twisting it, forcing the poisoner to his knees. He growled agony, pushing his other arm out to hold him off the ground. Kael tutted quietly. "You'll be a little weak. That sort of healing takes a lot out of you. Arcanium sends it along with his compliments, Malwin. Without you, we wouldn't be nearly as close as we are now."
"Bastard!" Malwin snarled, "Your city, your people, your friends! You'd kill them all?"
"Kill?" Kael chuckled, kicking out Malwin's knees and forcing his face into the stone, "I never said anything about killing."
He twisted Malwin's arm, turning it almost to its breaking point, and then released him, stepping to the cell door and opening it with another shriek of metal. Malwin remained where he had been left, gripping his tortured arm. "And Malwin? The danger tonight will come over the Western wall. You have two hours to prepare." He paused, looking through the bars with something almost like sympathy, "He's going to try to break you, all of you…the ones that still have wills left to be broken. If you can make it home, Malwin, tell them to hide their loved ones…the monsters have targets tonight."
Father Gregory sat at his desk, quietly poring over the documents he'd pulled from the Church archives. Luckily, he was not scrutinized by those who stood higher than he. Age and service had exonerated him of suspicion, so when he took the records of the Fateguard from the Church to study, none asked why.
Perhaps it was better that way.
The feather remained next to him, a dull thing within the confines of the glass he kept it in. But it was anything but dull to him. Pausing in his work, he crossed the room to take it from its appointed place and put it beside him on his desk. When it was near, he was calmer. The responsibility of its possession was his and his alone to bare…and he would have asked for no greater honor.
With it close to him, he could turn back to his work.
Something tugged at his mind as he pored through the documents…records of attack, deaths, the lineages of those who had come to the Fateguard. Yes there was legacy, yes there was blood tied in that suicidal organization…but more than that there was complete chaos. Those who came to the path came from all walks of life and blood, sending their children to the service afterwards as if it was some honor to bare. Once upon a time, Arcanium had tried to obliterate the Fateguard…but in that time none had paused to wonder why it was only the Fateguard he seemed so keen to eliminate. Yes, there was the blessing of their magical items, the holy blessings given, the king's support…yes it made them something of a figurehead, but certainly Gothenheim was not entirely defenseless without them…yet somehow the danger always seemed to find them…it was almost as if…
As if…
Father Gregory did not hear the door quietly open behind him, nor the figure that stood in the doorway. Kael smirked as he drew an arrow taught on the bow that had been left for him in its appointed place. How kind of the priest to make this acquisition so easy…he'd never have been able to get past the Church's wards or exterior defenses. The fools had brought him in themselves, just as Arcanium had predicted.
He loosed the arrow and the priest stiffened, falling over his work and tearing it down with him, all in a loud tumble. Kael cursed the clumsieness of the kill, dancing across the room to scoop the glass up with him before dashing into the hallway. He could hear the tramp of armor down the south corridor, guards quickly on their way.
He took the North, dashing down the hallway soundlessly. Slipping into another room, he quietly opened the windows to the Church sideyard and strung another arrow, tied to a rope. Launching it into a tree in the garden below the Cathedral, he slid down and hit the ground at a tumble. Soon there would be chaos, soon…he would have an opportunity to slip past the guards and into the city. Malwin would warn the Fateguard and the rest…well.
Kael grinned. The appointed time was drawing near.
The guards that found Father Gregory could already see the pallor of death beginning to close over him. The priest pawed for one of the church guards to bend down hear him, his body already shuddering. Gods, it was cold…so unbearably cold.
In the chaos of his strewn work, he already knew what the traitor had taken. But in these final moments he could not bring himself to curse the culprit. His entire life, Gregory had believed that darkness could be controlled, even utilized for a greater purpose. So few here seemed to understand that no one would have a concept of light without darkness. Evil would always exist so long as their were good man to try and stamp it out. What the church had never understood, what he had tried to do with Tahan, was to show that rather than simply eradicating, if they had sought to understand…then perhaps they wouldn't be shut behind the walls…as much their cage as their protection.
"My…journal…" He gasped, pointing weakly at the desk he had fallen from, "Give it…to…Tahan." He gripped the soldier with the strength of a dying man, at once terrifyingly strong and lamb-weak. "Now…bring it…to him…now."
The frightened soldier nodded, starting back from Father Gregory as two acoylytes shoved their way around him to attend to their fallen superior.
"Gods…" Gregory…for in death, he was only Gregory, father no more, muttered, "Gods…forgive me. There's still so much work to-"
And Father Gregory stared blankly at the ceiling.
His soul departed.
When Malwin was a boy, his father had taken him to the base of the grand Cathedral. The day was filled with dappled sunlight, leaves casting shadow patterns on their footsteps. They laid a picnic beneath an oak tree and his father told him tales about the heroic Fateguard. Malwin paid attention when he could, captured by both the adventure and the fleeting flight of dragonflies that alighted on grass blades.
"Did you know, Malwin," His father said, pulling the boy in a tumble to his side, "That the Cathedral is full of secrets?"
"No." Malwin said swiftly, hoping that his eagerness to feign ignorance would entice his father so say more about his fantastic life.
The old man chuckled, ruffling his sons hair. "See yonder tree?" He pointed at a sagging cypress, growing in an embittered battle with a boulder. "Beneath that is a path that leads to the catacombs of the Cathedral. Once upon a time, the Church was as much a stronghold as the castle. I read that before the Fateguard, priests were trained to fight the darkness that climbed over the walls…maybe that's why they hate the guard so much…" He rubbed the stubble on his chin and then poked Malwin's nose with an index finger, "We took their place in the people's hearts."
"But the Fateguard protects everyone, Dad," Malwin mused, rolling over onto his back, "Even the priests. Can't we all just be on the same side?"
"That's the trick of religion sometimes, son," His father told him with a weary smile, "Once you know you can save yourself, you don't need salvation anymore…do you?"
The boulder interwoven with the roots of the yew tree groaned, shifting from its place. Through the gap, Malwin crawled onto the moonstained ground, gripping with earth with bloodless fingers. Spots leaped and spun in his vision, but the poisoner refused to allow himself the luxury of unconsciousness. Terrible knowledge burned in his heart, burdened by his already heavy guilt. For years he had failed the Fateguard he had sworn to protect, to uphold…the organization his father loved. If he fell now, with no one to warn his brothers, he would have betrayed them again.
Staggering to his feet, Malwin stumbled away from the Church into the alleys of Gothenheim. His last few years were blurred to him, memories as unreliable as the tenuous shadows that clung to Gothenheim's walls. Somewhere in his experience the secrets to these grand conspiracies, to Tamoldes and the monoliths, was hidden. He couldn't sort them out. There was only chaos and noise. Damn him, damn his rattled mind. If he could only order these thoughts then perhaps he could piece together what was happening. For years he had been a pawn of Tamoldes, and in that time he certainly would have known the dark prince's plans…or at least what he'd done in preparation. Kael had spoken to him as though he expected the Poisoner to have been a comrade. Something about the monolith had changed Kael, warped him profoundly enough to make the archer believe, truly believe, he worked on a righteous side. There was zealotry burning in his eyes, unquestioning faith.
They were not the eyes of a madman…they were the eyes of a crusader.
If only he could remember what that meant!
How many times had he walked to the Chapter House before? In the day he was blind, he knew the path without looking. Perhaps it was just as well, only ragged will animated his footsteps when he finally reached the doors of the Chapter House. Malwin threw himself against the doors, hurling them open before crashing to the stony floor.
12 Years Ago
