Angela MacDonald's Blog, page 4

Against All Odds/chapter 3/book 2 of the Novels of Shannon

CHAPTER THREE                         .

64?

No one moved much due to the cold. They just huddled by the fire and tried to thaw out. The meat was cooked and they were eating when Riven finally entered camp. He sank to the ground and accepted the meat that Tavia brought to him. He lifted his eyes to her. After such an encounter as seeing a Guardian Summons, it was said that a person would have insight into the truth of others. And while he was half afraid to see, he was too curious to not look at her.

Tavia looked like herself for a moment, but then she was swept clean and was in a long, elegant, soft-green gown with a golden belt worn low on her hips. There was a crown of golden flowers on her head emanating sparks of light. He saw her offer him a chalice of life, not a meager meal of roasted meat. For one moment, she was a queen. She was radiant with visible power. Her aura was not the white of a priestess as he might have expected, but golden and sapphire flushing with pinks and green. Then he saw her once again as the battered, wind- burned, snow-chapped, weary Tavia.

“Thank you,” he said with great gratitude, taking the gift she offered as if it was the chalice he had seen for a moment.

He looked over as Shannon and Theo returned to camp. He saw Theo without even trying. Theo wore dark velvet robes that trailed on the ground and had a great black and silver fur upon his shoulders. He wore a golden crown and belt that were set with stones of vibrant power. He was no longer the weak frail man that he appeared to be. He stood tall and was as strong and muscular as a Purtan. He stood with authority, looking like an Awens King of Old, and yet somehow older and darker. He was awesome! Riven was startled at the slender man’s shocking change, but then he saw Shannon.

Riven did not see him with the insight as he expected, as he had seen the others. In a terrible flash he saw the horrific image. Shannon was in a cardinal’s robe, wreathed in lambent flame. His hands were bound with magical energy, held up over his head. His skin and fabric were burning and his hair was singeing off in the heat. The rings he wore – that of a priest and that of a married man – were both melting, running down his hand and wrist. There was no sound, but Riven saw his scream, the tears on his face, and realized the pain that brought the man to his knees. It was a single horrendous image, one flicker of hell and then it was gone, but the taste remained.

Riven felt ill. He trembled inside. His Dwarven mind threatened to go into survival mode. The image was seared onto the inside of his eyelids. He wanted to forget the shocking vision… the touch of hell, but he could not move. He was forced to see Shannon lift his eyes and look at him as he entered the camp. Riven was unable to look away from the man. Every blink flashed the image, almost making it impossible to breathe. Riven knew that there was something he should be putting together. With what he had just seen, what he already knew, things should all fit. But he just couldn’t think it through; there was a block.

“How did it go?” Shannon asked in Dwarven. The feelings washed away and Riven let them go with relief. He knew that he was not ready to understand it all. The Purtan’s soft voice seemed to purge the vision from his mind and give him back sanity. He caught his breath, grateful for it to be over

“It went,” he said, trying not to let his voice shake. He wasn’t sure how to even begin to say what had happened. Such a conversation was certainly not a good idea with Oirion sitting right beside him. He knew that he should be trying to recall what he had just seen, but, at the same time, he was desperate to forget it as fast as he could.

Shannon bowed his head to him.

Theo walked over and took some meat, and then sat by the fire. As Shannon moved to take his usual place, Tavia got up and brought a piece over to him. She stepped in his way, blocking his path. When he moved to step around her, she side-stepped.

“I expect you to actually eat.”

“You expect a great deal, woman,” he said, a bit annoyed.

“Shannon,” she warned, using a tone that indicated she was going to fight him about it.

“I explained to you last night why I am not going to eat that. Give it to your son.”

“So you can wither into nothing?” she demanded. “You drop on us and we are going to have a hell of a time keeping our feet. Eat.” She pushed it at him.

Shannon’s cheek twitched ever so slightly, but Oirion saw it and so did Dave. Riven looked at the woman as she proved the vision he had seen of her.

“Tavia,” Shannon said, forcing himself to calm.

“Ty,” She snapped back.

That froze him for a moment, and they all saw it. Oirion raised an eyebrow at Shannon’s reaction. Most Purtan men, at least all of the older ones, had Ty at the front of their names, and so calling a Purtan man Ty was a good bet it was his name. It was done in honor of the angels who founded the Purtan Empire and the great sacrifices the Purtans had made to turn the tide of the Razzan war. Shannon undoubtedly would have used the racial name that so many Purtan men had, making it odd that he would react to being called by it.

“I am not going to eat that.” Shannon pushed it and her hand away. “It will do me more harm than good. If you have not noticed, I do not eat meat. What language do you need me to say that in to make you understand?”

“Now see, Shannon,” Oirion said, “that leads us back to that conversation we had about the odd things you do.”

Shannon looked over at him, clearly annoyed and becoming more so.

“It is not supernatural, Oirion. As I have told you before, I am Purtan.”

“Racial, is it?” Oirion asked. “Dave, are you able to fast for months?”

“My mother wasn’t Purtan,” Dave said, “but my father has gone weeks before to give the crew larger rations when things have gotten tight. He just trances a lot and tightens his belt. I have to say when he comes out of one of those fasts, he almost thinks starving to death would be better than recovering. It takes a lot of vomiting and debilitating cramps to come out of one of those. Now would not be a good time for Shannon to go through that.” He exaggerated about it, making it sound worse than it was. This conversation was getting into a bad place and he needed to get them off of Shannon. The man was tired and when he was tired, people got hurt… or killed. “Myself, I do not think we have the supplies or the time for Shannon to come out of the fast he is in. At his age, I am sure he knows how far he can push himself.”

“Dwarves can do that as well,” Riven said softly, “only we use bits of dried meat, not tea.” He held up the rather small amount of meat he had taken. “I don’t think any of you have seen how a dwarf eats by choice, and I assure you, this is not it. Shannon, sit; why don’t you tell us what your favorite meal is and we can each say ours. It’ll give us something to talk about and maybe a bit of insight into each other’s cultures.

Myself, I was just thinking about seal,” he said, “a nice young one, turned on the spit and dripped with butter from the caribou, and on the side a great bowl of the Golden Root boiled until it’s mashed, mixed with honey and heaped on fine dark rye bread… a pitcher of beer and a mug of coffee. Oh, that would be good.” he sighed.

“Horse,” Kaava said. “I should have butchered one of the horses,” he sighed.

“Marik,” Ivan said softly. “Fire cooked, with butter tea and Green Weed.” He closed his eyes.

“What’s marik?” Dave asked.

“It’s like a great big cow, sort of,” Riven said. “It is better than beef, but it takes a herd of Ezeerens to get any. It’s quite a hunt, I am told. Men usually die on it.”

“It is good training for war,” Ivan grinned.

“I like White Fish with a lemon sauce, mushrooms in butter and wine,” Tavia said.

“Pasta with a tomato sauce, meat and vegetables in it, red wine and soft garlic toast,” Kelly said with a smile.

“Oirion?” Riven asked. Oirion looked up, obviously in pain, trying to find a comfortable position to lie on the ground.

“Oh, uh… I suppose I like cold roast on bread, with cheese, and drippings to dip it in… nothing fancy.”

“I like raw pink fish and water crest mixed in a soup,” Salma said. “That would be so good right now.”

They all looked at Shannon.

“What do you miss?” Riven asked. Shannon sank down to sit as far from the fire as he could and drew up a knee. He looked at the dwarf who had changed the subject and made peace so well. He could play the game, it would help ease tensions, and help them all sleep better. The less tension, the less he would be tempted to use them.

“Elk,” Shannon said honestly, “over fire, medium rare, with beer; a salad with Elven wine dressing, and a shot of Dwarven Red Berry.”

“They call that the Prince’s Platter in most of the taverns in Purt,” Oirion said. “I have never had it with a shot of red afterwards though. It sounds like a hangover, or a lost gut. Jamie certainly liked it,” Oirion added, thinking how much Jamie enjoyed that meal. “He ordered it every time it was offered.”

“It takes much more than that to get me drunk.” Riven chuckled, “but I have ordered that myself a few times and found myself regretting the first shot. It normally leads to more.

“One day, Riven, you and I will have to have a shot war,” Ivan said. “The winner buys dinner.”

They all relaxeed and sank into their own thoughts. Most crawled back into the tents to sleep the day away, crawling out for a sip of hot tea or to stare at the fire before going back inside.

Theo was with Travis, who was playing for the first time in weeks. Shannon tranced lightly, just off to the side, away from the fire. Riven crawled out of the tents, sat with the book he had gotten from Shannon, fighting the lock for a bit.

Think Dwarven, Shannon had said. He tried to start all over, with the idea that it was a Dwarven lock. On the off chance that it was, he tried a simple Dwarven lock spell. The lock would have you believe that it was holding the book shut, but the true lock was where the owner would put his seal. Riven touched the monogram. The lock opened as simply as that. It had been a riddle lock more than a power lock.

“Hah Hah!” he cheered at getting it open.

He looked up and saw Shannon looking at him.

Riven grinned and opened the book. He read what was hand-written on the front page.

“Hey Redelle, take a look at this and see what you think. I thought you might enjoy it a bit and get a good chuckle out of it. I certainly did. It’s not the best written thing, but the guy has a great sense of humor. He might love to get a letter from you. Yours in God, Gerome.”

The title of the book was ‘A Mages Journey into Mastery.’ He turned the page and saw, in beautifully written Purtan, a note that was stuck in the cover. He carefully pulled it out of the inside folder and unfolded it.

The note was beautifully written in a graceful strong hand. He was sure he had seen that print some place before.

“Roman, I got the book. Thank you. I only laughed out loud once during council, but that was rather fitting for the book, I guess. The looks I got were rather of the “hmm, that was not what was supposed to happen” sort. I just wanted to send you a word. Later, if you’re in the city, maybe we can meet at the Green Roof. REY

Riven looked at the note a bit, then turned it over and read a set of short notes on the back. They were written by same two hands, replying back and forth to each other.

“I’ll be at the Docks until late. If you can escape, I’ll meet you at the Kings Bowl.”

“What are you doing at the Docks?”

“Remember Jevaine?”

“Now what did he do?”

“He wrote a very pretty song about us. I wanted to have a talk with him. It’s one thing to joke, but if your father heard this one, it would be historical. He’d be beyond upset, and I can only imagine what he would say. The bad thing is it’s all about the whole ‘Glenda’ thing.”

“That rat. I’ll get out of here and help you squeeze him a little.”

“It’s a great song – it just happens to be about us. Damn bards. The crew down here thinks it’s grand. They asked me right off ‘how my von feels.’”

“What’d you say to him?”

“‘Same as ever.’ You going to be able to get out without a riot tomorrow?”

“If I don’t, I am going to hang myself. I’ll be there in a mark.”

“Hey, if you’re still there, just to warn you, Tyr Ara is down here with Grenn.”

Riven read it twice, not sure what he was reading. He just couldn’t imagine why there would be a two-way conversation on one page. But then, maybe he did know.

“You read this letter?” He asked, trying to think how one piece of paper was having messages back and forth like that so fast.

“No,” Shannon said looking up. Riven held it over. Shannon read it, sitting very still. He closed his eyes after a moment and just held the paper. Riven noticed that his hand was shaking the slightest bit, either from the cold or something else. It was not like Shannon to react to anything, let alone something so small. Riven could sense that Shannon knew something about the letter. He cleared his throat.

“How do you send a letter back and forth like that?”

Shannon opened his eyes and looked at the letter. He spoke softly, but his Whisper was broken and it was a different man’s voice – just with low volume. He was actually using his vocal cords.

“Scan that for tags. He might be using it to track us.” He passed the letter back.

Riven took the letter and held it. He went into a trance. Sure enough, laid on it so tight and neat that he nearly overlooked it was a tag. It was so small the power needed to track it would be impressive, but it was there. Apparently power was not an issue. Worse, the power on it was demonic and there was a broken illusion on it as well. Riven tapped it with power and the tag sparked and zapped him. He swore and tossed the letter into the fire.

“Is that how he tracked us so far?”

Shannon wiped his face with his hands.

“You read this book?” Riven asked, to change the subject.

“I have.”

“Any good?”

“I would not have given it to you if it wasn’t.”

“Shannon,” Riven said after a moment, “you know what a Dwarven Summons is?”

Shannon looked at him. “I do,” he said.

“You know what they say happens after you see one?”

“I do,” he said carefully. “Why?” he switched to Dwarven, surprising the dwarf.

“I shouldn’t be able to do that. I’m a priest to a different faith.”

“Not really. The Purtan religion you belong to does not exclude your gods, Master Dwarf… it merely explains them. It does not make them less, it makes heaven more.”

“So says Saint Tyredelle.”

“So he does,” Shannon agreed sadly.

“Often, you say things that herald back to his writings. I studied them once. It made it easier to be priest for Purt and not feel torn over heritage. But now time and so much seen… I have lost that feeling of ‘All is One.’ It is not Purt who comforts me now, but hunts me instead. I am exhausted and torn, and feeling rather betrayed by it all.”

“You are not alone, Riven.”

“At the moment that is exactly how I feel,” Riven said, still speaking in Dwarven. He was a bit surprised that he had confessed such deep feelings, and to Shannon of all people.

“You do not have to forsake the religion of Purt to adhere to the faith of your fathers or the gods that heed to your people. They can walk together in one man. And you can condemn the Church as warped as it has become, and still love the Spirit. That which is said, and that which is, are not the same. What was, and what is, are now different than what was meant to be. It would be better for your soul to forsake Purt and fall back to the ancient truths of the Gods who might offer guidance through the tangle of lies and deception of Purt.

“Perhaps, Riven, that is why you are here now. You might have to endure a trek such as this in order to hear Them, so you might be true to the angels and aid others in finding the Spirit again.”

Riven looked at him, not saying anything. If nothing else, Shannon was a very complex man with a great grasp of languages.

“What of you, Shannon? You guide with the words of a priest, but your name means deepest of all grief in Elder Elven. I’m educated enough to know that. How do you seek to give council when you are beyond being consoled?”

“Take my words or not, Riven. I do not claim to be a saint. I do not claim even to be wise. I merely say what I think. It is up to your heart to hear it or not.”

“Isn’t the Dwarven priesthood a form of Sorcery?” Theo asked, butting into their conversation.

“All priesthoods are a form of Sorcery,” Shannon said.

Riven almost argued, but let it go. He was not going to argue for the Church that he was finding out was not the holy thing he once thought it was. He turned his focus, instead, to the book that he held. It was an amusing retelling of the life of a man learning to master his magic on the road in the long outlawed journeyman state.

It was only later that he realized he had heard Theo speak in Dwarven several times now. He looked up at the lean man standing at the fire, silently watching the flames flicker and curl. He felt sick a moment, then pushed it aside. There was no way a young Awens noble would speak the language well enough to understand that conversation.

***********

They stayed at the camp all that day. Shannon left them just before dusk and was gone for several hours before he returned with several small creatures that looked like rabbits of a sort. He handed them to Tavia, who sat at the fire. She paused a moment before she took them from him.

“How did you manage to find those?” Kaava asked impressed. “I didn’t find so much as a trail.”

“They were hibernating,” Shannon said softly, watching Tavia lay them out. He had already gutted them for her and stuffed them with dried herbs and rose-like hips. It was a peace offering as far as the others could guess.

“Well, thank you!” Salma said. “I don’t care how you found them or killed them; I’m just happy to be able to eat tonight.”

Travis caught Shannon’s hand and pulled him to sit down near the tent door with him where he had been playing with little snow-made men. Shannon sank to the snow and let the little boy wrap a blanket around him and crawl into his lap. Tavia turned her back to him to cook.

There was no meal in the morning; they just packed up and headed down the mountain toward the forest. Once they reached the tree line, the wind was blocked and moods lifted. As they hiked, the snow drifts tapered off and the temperature rose. It was soon warm enough that they could pull their hoods, scarves, and gloves off. They moved through the forest, arriving at a sudden change of growth. The pines ended at the bank of a small shallow creek. On the other side the forest was deciduous. It was late and they were all tired and hungry, so they stopped. Everyone sensed a change that was more than just trees… or the fact that there was no snow on the other side.

“I don’t like it,” Salma announced, as they dropped their packs to the ground and prepared to set up camp.

“Me neither,” Dave muttered.

“What is that smell?” Ivan asked. A breath of air stirred and carried to them an odd reek.

“Zombie,” Riven hissed. “I hate zombies.” He fingered the handle of his new axe as he looked at the dark, thick forest on the other side of the creek.

“What’s a zombie exactly?” Ivan asked.

“It’s a corpse,” Riven said, “one that has been raised from the dead and is like a puppet to the master. A ghoul and a zombie are basically the same thing, but the master, if he is really strong, can stuff a low level demon in a zombie. That makes it into a ghoul, able to think and act with some measure of intelligence. Zombies aren’t as smart and continue to rot, so must be replenished. But they are tougher, harder to stop. See, the thing about them is they don’t feel pain. You can’t kill them. Not even if you hack them apart, they don’t stop; they keep coming. Hands will drag themselves after you until they reach the end of their master’s territory.”

“How do you kill them?” Dave asked.

“You can’t,” Oirion said. “They’re already dead.”

“How do we get through?” Dave asked, almost impatiently. He was used to having Shannon answer his questions with the information he was asking for.

Shannon looked from the woods to Dave.

“Shannon. What do we do when we meet them?” Dave pressed.

“Fire works well,” Shannon said with a slight scowl. “You have a good grip on that. Use it.”

“What about Tavia?” Ivan asked. “She and I have no magic.”

“Stay close,” Riven said. “I can watch you well enough. I have played with worse before. The trick is to not get cornered and if it’s real important, you just kill their master. They all drop.”

No one was about to suggest that they keep going tonight. Riven might have suggested a Blessing and he was sure Oirion expected him to, but he didn’t. His heart was not in it and false blessings were not of much good.

Camp that night was restless, knowing what they were going to be facing. They didn’t talk much, but just sat around watching the fire or trying to sleep. Oirion had walked apart from the others to look at the forest and to think about Shannon’s questions… how a Damned, a thing that is supposed to be nothing more than a zombie, can live, can cast spells, can think, write, and hide in society if given the chance.

He had a fear that there was a reason that Shannon knew so much about it, but he couldn’t imagine that a vampire was a real man. That even one of them was soulful and aware was just too much to consider. He shuddered to think of having that sickness… of falling that far. What would that do to a man? What makes you want to drink the blood of another? These thoughts, and more, went through his head, but there were no answers there… just more questions.

Riven walked up to Oirion, and stood silent for awhile.

“You study history much in the monastery?”

“No, not much at all. Why?”

“I was wondering about the Pontiff’s past.”

“Why?”

Riven hesitated, unsure what to say. He liked Oirion, but he wasn’t really sure that the man was ready to hear this.

“The gate of Ulam Ar was sealed by him,” Oirion. He entombed thousands to die slowly inside that mountain, and then, in the Baron’s, there were men there – men from the Holy Palace. I recognized them. I am shaken and I need to know what led to that.” He said it as mildly as he could, and yet be honest.

Oirion looked over at the dwarf and then sank down, sitting on a fallen tree that faced the forest of aspen and oak. He looked out at the trees, saying nothing for a long time.

“It’s Shannon, you know,” Oirion said.

“What’s Shannon?”

“He says just the right thing to make you question everything.”

“Yes, but what if he’s right? I mean, a year ago I would never have believed that the Church had lied about being able to pass through the shield. I never would have thought the pontiff would entomb thousands. I never would have foreseen the higher church men talking to a Blood for information and drinking wine with him.” He shook his head. “My God, what has Shannon seen?”

They sat there, both questioning their religion and their faith so deeply that it hurt.

“Riven, you’ve more training than I. Tell me, what does the term ‘Blessed Celibacy’ come right down to?”

“The allowance of love if it is in the spirit of worship,” Riven said. “By the old meaning one can have a wife, but no playing around. Now it means total self-denial. I looked it up. Dwarves measure wealth by how many children they have and how many pounds of jewels. I have neither a child nor a jewel. All I have is this ring and a lot of questions.” He sighed heavily. “So if you’re asking if I think that God would be mad if you were to get along with Tavia? No. I’d be happy for you. I’d even marry you, if you asked. What’s the difference though? Half the upper churchmen have mistresses and bastards anyway. I doubt you having one will upset anything too much?”

“Do you?”

“No. A penniless dwarf doesn’t get a Dwarven woman, and a penniless priest doesn’t get a human one, either. So, here I am. My faith is questioned, not for a woman, but over orcs.” He laughed at that. “Tell you what, Oirion. If you love a woman and feel bad about it later, I’ll give you absolution. And if not, and you like it, then you can get married or something, and nothing is lost. It’d give a good reason to have a great party.”

“That is sort of a heartless way to play religion.”

“Such is life, Little Brother.”

“You think we can all get through this alive tomorrow?” Oirion changed the subject.

“Not a chance,” Riven said. “The Bog was impressive, yes, but we lost one and I was close to it. Might as well have been two. This? Zombies? A dozen ghouls in the Bog is one thing, but a thousand zombies…who feel no pain and have no minds… this is bad.” He shook his head. “You, me, Shannon, and Dave, I think, will make it… the rest?” He made the gesture of blessing and left it at that. “Enjoy her while you can. Tonight might be the last night you get to.”

The dwarf stood from the fallen tree that they were sharing. He trudged back to camp, his spirits low. He went to the fire and sat down beside Dave.

“Where’s Oirion?” Tavia asked.

“That way…thinking” Riven nodded. “He might welcome your company, though.”

She got up and went out to find him. Riven watched her go, sighed, and began to pick sap off his hand.

“What’s on your mind, Riven?” Dave asked softly as he sharpened one of Tavia’s cooking daggers.

“Just wish I had access to a history book right now,” he said.

“What about? Maybe I can answer it,” Dave said. “My father insisted that I must know history.”

“Know much about the pontiff?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dave hesitated.

“Why the doubt?”

“You’re a priest, Riven. What I know, some people call heresy.”

“Ah, well, I’m questioning the priest thing about now. What do you know? I have no idea about the man, really.”

“Well, he was a peasant. The son of a prostitute, I think. He was sent into the monastery. He proved to be gifted at political skills and was promoted, eventually, into the Purtan courts. When he was young, the Church put him with Tyredelle Von Armond. They were Hunting partners and they did incredibly well together for the thirty or forty years they were in the forests together. Tyredelle was promoted in the hierarchy of the Church, but Gerome wasn’t. I’m not sure why they weren’t promoted as one, since that was how it worked in those days.

“Then, about two years later, Tyredelle turned up missing – his family dead. The Emperor vanished on or about the same time, and Gerome, saying he was witness to it all, claimed that magic destroyed their minds. Gerome immediately took the Emperor’s throne, claiming to be the Regent of Purt; he said he would give it up to whoever proved to be rightful heir. When the pontiff, the old one, died a day later, Gerome claimed divine right to the Church Throne as Tyredelle’s partner, since Tyredelle, who was the known heir, was still missing. Gerome had taken both thrones.

“The Purtan court was in shock. The empire fell and the Church took over. In all I suppose it took a dozen years, but to a Purtan it seemed over night.” He sighed heavily, his thoughts his own for a moment. “Then, Gerome created the legends surrounding Tyredelle, making him seem like two different men. One was that of the man Von Armond who had gone crazy, taken by the Madness of power, murdering his wife and children. The other was a saint – the holy man who was taken by vampires. But no one knows for certain the truth of what happened, except Gerome. And here we are now.”

Dave paused, and then went on, “You know that Tyredelle was the Imperial heir as well as heir to the pontificate, don’t you?”

Riven nodded as Shannon returned from wherever he had gone.

“What’s a Purtan’s input on it?” Riven asked him.

“On what?” Shannon said.

“On the Pontiff and the Prince.”

“I think about it as little as I possibly can. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Riven looked back the way Tavia had gone, wondered what was going on out there and hoped Oirion had taken off his ring for the night. He was annoyed by Shannon’s answer, but the man was probably right. Chances were that he knew a lot about it and they would be up all night talking, not getting the rest that they needed. If they lived through the next few days, he’d ask again and be a little pressing about it. For tonight he would let his troubled thoughts rest, and try to get his body to do so as well.

Several hours after dark, the first sounds began to come out of the forest. Chilling air and groaning howls drifted from the darkness beyond the trees, making it hard to relaxe. They got up, one by one, to sit around the fire. A thick, sticky fog crept into the camp. It drew up around them, surrounding them, as if it were alive. It was a cold, wet, creepy dampness – foul to the touch. It seemed to move toward the fire to investigate it, then recoil back from the heat. Dave tried to think of the other places that he had seen on this trip so that he could recall it all for record later, and to distract himself from the vile forest. He couldn’t focus past the reek, the moans, and the howling. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is it really necessary that we go through there?” he asked Shannon.

“Yes.”

“Well, can’t you do something so that we can at least get some sleep?”

Shannon looked over at the group of silent and huddled companions from where he sat watching the forest.

“It is really not as bad as you think.”

“I’ve seen zombies,” Salma said in disagreement. “I’m pretty sure it is as bad as I think.”

“So have I,” Shannon said. “We will be fine.”

“Let’s deal with that tomorrow,” Dave said. “I just want to sleep tonight. I know you can do that.”

Shannon gestured vaguely at them. The young man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he sort of folded over against Kelly. She looked at Dave, a little uncomfortable with him against her. She wanted to object, but Shannon’s attention was already gone. He looked back the way they had come and didn’t seem to notice. It wasn’t too long before all of them got up and found places to sleep. Kelly was left at the fire with Dave sleeping against her. Salma remained there, also, watching the forest. The cat woman looked over at the big warrior woman and smiled.

“He looks comfortable enough. You?”

“Not particularly,” Kelly said.

“Let’s move him into a tent. You can go to sleep then.”

Kelly nodded and gathered Dave up in her arms. She carried him to the last tent where Ivan and Travis were already asleep to try and work him into a comfortable spot.

“Kelly,” Salma whispered.

“What?”

“I’m freezing. Did you know that it’s winter? We can all share a bed; just let Dave sleep with us. Oirion will need sleep more than he needs Dave’s company.”

“If you’re cold,” Kelly said. She lay down near Dave, expecting Salma to crawl in between, but the little cat woman snuggled up to her, pushing her against Dave. Salma took Kelly’s arm, drew it around her, purred, and snuggled warmly. They both drifted out rather quickly after that.

It was hours later that Tavia joined them. She wasn’t about to curl up with Ivan who was curled around Travis, so she snuggled in next to Salma, who pulled her in closer.

“You’re back late,” Salma giggled, as the three women got comfortable.

“Shh,” Tavia breathed. “Why’s Dave sleeping with us?”

“He fell asleep in Kelly’s arms,” Salma snickered.

“He was knocked out and left for me to deal with,” Kelly whispered back. “Where were you?”

“With Oirion,” she whispered. “Shh, would you.”

“It’s about god-damn time,” Kelly muttered.

“We didn’t do anything,” she objected.

Salma hugged her. “That’s too bad. Didn’t you try?”

“No. Now shush.”

Morning came all too early, but none of the women moved. It was Dave who sat up. He was surprised to find himself wedged in between Kelly and Salma, and even more so to find Tavia curled up against Kelly. The last he remembered he was sitting by the fire with Shannon and Kelly. Salma sat up and draped herself over Dave’s side, looking at them.

“Well, now you can say you woke up with three women in your tent.” She kissed his cheek. “How’s that view strike you?” she whispered in his ear. “Kelly might look tough, but she’s a woman where it counts, you know.”

He half looked back at Salma. “Why don’t you reach around and find out how that view strikes me?”

She boldly did so. He grabbed her hand with a laugh.

“You’re a wicked woman, Salma,” he said.

“Salma,” Kelly warned, “I am trying to sleep here. Stop making my pillow hard.”

Tavia and Salma snickered. It was an unexpected joke from a very quiet woman. Tavia crawled out to start breakfast. Salma kissed Dave’s cheek again, and left to help Tavia. Dave lay back down, pulling the warm blankets close. If he wasn’t needed, he was not going to get up and get cold. The only problem in his mind was that Kelly stayed as well. He shifted around trying to get comfortable. It was not working well.

“Oh, just get comfortable, David; you’re losing all the heat.”

He took her permission and spooned up against her back, his arm around her waist. He was a little over-aware of the effect that had on him and the fact that she had to feel it, but he was comfortable, at least.

“Better?” she asked.

“No complaints?” he asked.

“No. Just be still and let me go back to sleep.”

He pulled the blanket over his head, hid his face against her back where it was warm, and went back to sleep himself.

Soon they were all up and seemed quite refreshed despite the long night, the cold, and the difficulty falling asleep. The sky was clouding over and the peaks behind them were lost from view. Shannon divided the packs more evenly before they shouldered it all, and then turned toward the forest.

“Stay close to me,” he said, as they went under the trees, “and Salma, if you feel anything, tell me.”

“I feel a little scared,” she offered, then smiled warily. “I’ll keep alert,” she promised seriously.

They moved out, each crossing the stream carefully in order to not get their boots wet first thing. Leaving the early morning light behind them, they entered the darkness of the trees.

“…into the dark underworld of the Forest of the Damned.” Ivan said grandly. “The mighty company fears no evil…” he laughed, but fell silent after that.

Early on, they hit a section of the great wide road that ran across the lands, much to their relief. It stretched on before them, but it was coveded in fallen trees and centuries of debris. It was going to be slow going. The sluggish pace was nerve wracking. Just knowing how little ground they were covering was enough to make all of their nerves edgy. The men fingered their sword hilts and kept alert.

“Feels like a damn nightmare,” Theo muttered softly. “You’re in a rush, but you can’t move any faster than a walk.”

“North,” Salma said. “There’s something to the north of us.”

Shannon nodded. “Keep moving,” he said.

They hadn’t gone much farther in before Salma was feeling things in all directions. Once in awhile a breath of air would carry a smell to them so foul that they all gagged. It felt like an eternity in this twilight-night. They were tense with nerves and wanted to be out of this stinking place. Then Shannon drew his sword. The others followed suit. The hiss of the swords flying out of their sheaths was a signal that the peace was about to end.

They hadn’t made it another ten feet farther before they were attacked by the zombies. There were at least five of them coming out of the trees. Shannon jumped and spun, kicking one in the head. The head exploded and the zombie dropped to the ground. Shannon swung his sword, cutting off the head of another. Dave chopped at one that came at him. His sword went right through the top of its head, splitting the skull. Brain, rotted to slime, spilled out. He gagged and jumped back.

Salma leaped upward into the boughs of the trees, escaping the fight. Several of the zombies stood under her, trying to reach up and grab her.

The armed members of the company had the zombies on the ground quickly, but the things weren’t dead. The one with the missing head was already getting up, moving like some jerky puppet. The others, with their clothes and flesh rotting off, were moving as well. Shannon didn’t wait, but moved on at once. He motioned Ivan to the lead, and then took up the last place himself.

“Keep your heads,” Shannon said. “We have minds, they do not.”

Ivan led them on.

Shannon had Dave turn the path behind them to flames as Ivan broke trail for them through the fallen trees. It seemed as if the debris and dead wood had been piled up on the road on purpose – in order to slow travelers. It worked well. Ivan tripped and fell often. The smaller members were left crawling over the tangle.

They stopped often on a word from Shannon or Riven to move off the road. They had to duck down and hide as they waited for the groups of zombies that shambled past through the trees or even over the tangle in the road. They kept a slow walk at best and seemed to be going nowhere. Dave felt his heart begin to pound when he realized that it was getting darker. He really didn’t want to spend the night here. In the first small clearing they entered, Shannon caught up to Ivan.

“We will camp here.”

“Here?” Salma asked. “They’ll surround us!” Panic was in her voice.

“Here,” Shannon said. “The faster we can get tents up and a fire lit the better.”

They all set to work. Shannon didn’t help, but grabbed Theo. They went around the camp, kneeling every four feet or so, drawing in the mud and leaf debris. By the time they finished, the camp was set up.

“Here they come,” Salma said.

“Relaxe, little kitten,” Shannon said softly.

She gripped her bow and took out an arrow, preparing to shoot as a zombie shuffled out of the wood toward them. As he neared, he triggered the spell that Shannon and Theo had laid. A flash of power hurled him back with a spark of light. He got up, half crushed and tried again. The same thing happened.

“Damn,” Theo breathed. “That’s nice and useful. Why didn’t you teach me that months ago?”

“It works only for zombies. It would have been of no use before now,” Shannon said, settling down.

“How long will it hold?” Dave asked.

“Until Theo takes it down. Sit and eat; we have at least four days of this. Get used to it.”

Oirion was about to object, but a look from Riven made him go silent. It was, after all, their only hope. This would make the difference between who lived and who died in these woods. They all had a chance now, and Oirion had to admit Shannon was very good at edging things in. Step by step, Shannon was making everything from sorcery to love acceptable. He looked at the man, wondering if he was purposely tearing the priests apart, or if it was just survival to him.

Shannon looked from a critical study of Theo’s work over to Oirion. He always seemed to know when he was being watched. He waited for Oirion to say something, but when he didn’t, Shannon went back to studying the strength of the spell.

“How did I do?” Theo asked, taking a seat near Shannon. Shannon was unable to be his usual distance from the others, but kept back as best he could in the small area.

“Very well,” he said.

“So, we can sleep?” Ivan asked, concerned about the zombies that kept walking into the shield.

“Yes,” Shannon said.

“So, Theo is a sorcerer?” he asked, with a nervous sideways look at Theo.

“Are you not glad that he is a good and gracious man?” Shannon asked. Ivan swallowed hard.

“I always thought that sorcerers were old,” Ivan said. “Theo’s what… sixteen?”

“Sixteen?” Theo objected. He swore under his breath in Awens.

“No?” Tavia asked. “I would have guessed eighteen.”

“Tavia,” he objected, hurt.

“Well, how old are you?” Oirion asked.

“He’s sixty-four,” Shannon said, “with a birthday soon.”

“How do you know that?” Oirion asked.

“I know who he is,” Shannon said.

“You do?” Riven asked, surprised.

Shannon had a hint of a smile playing in his eyes.

“Sixty-four… really?” Tavia asked. “How the hell does that work? You barely have a beard and Cindie couldn’t have been more than eighteen.”

“I didn’t marry her for her age or her intelligence,” he said. “She had other assets I was after.”

“Wide hips and health?” Riven nodded to himself. “She would have had large, healthy babies.”

“That helped, but no,” Theo admitted.

“What then?” he asked, oblivious to any other redeeming qualities.

“She had a large dowry and a political boost.”

“So, you can’t be too mad,” Ivan said.

“If I was too mad, Ivan, I would have killed you by now,” he said seriously. For the first time, no one doubted that if he wanted to kill someone, he could.

“But Theo…”

“Drop it,” Dave said. “Let’s just try and get some rest, and get the hell out of this forest as fast as we can.”

Against All Odds-book 2 of Princes and Priests/chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE                                    .

There was something that felt rather surreal to Dave about waking up in a room that was all in white. There were no windows to tell the time and there were no fires or candles. As pleasant as it was out of the cold and no longer on the run, it was wearing on him. After what felt like weeks of not seeing any locals, except the orc who brought food, it began to feel rather like a strange jail. He and his company were all feeling it, like strange pets kept in a very nice cage.

Dave had heard of stranger sorts of capture and was beginning to feel defensive and hostile. He set out to find anyone he knew or at least someone who would talk to him. He knew Elven and should be able to talk to at least someone here. Everyone was on edge, and with Theo and Oirion annoyed at each other, the common room was not where he wanted to be. Shannon had not returned; he seemed very uneasy with all the questions, as well as oddly vulnerable.

Dave resorted to magic. He tried a few times to scan out, to learn where the others were, but to no effect. It was all blocked. Desperate to not feel so blind and helpless, he took a hold of the thongs at his throat and tried again. He had never used the magic in the choker, but he saw his father use his, often in tight situations. He expected a small boost at least. He got a scan mark at once and set out to try to find one of his friends, whoever might be closest. He passed through several hallways that he was sure he had not seen before. These hallways were smaller and not as rounded as the others. The hall led him down several flights of stairs to a great chamber. Inside, there were many orcs working at various chores.

There were several orcs spinning on large wheels and a set of very old orcs weaving on great looms, not surprisingly, making white fabric. Others were grinding something in stone bowls and doing various other tasks that Dave didn’t recognize off hand. Among them he saw Kelly and cut for her at once.

She stood with a group of female orcs about halfway down the great hall, looking almost feminine in the white robe that she wore. He was rather happy to see her and realized that he missed her quiet presence. He crossed the floor, pulled her into a one-arm hug and kissed her cheek as she reached to take his hand.

She had been back to the common room only a couple of times, obviously disliking the tension as much, if not more, than Dave.

“Dave,” she said simply.

He let out a breath of relief. “I have really started to go stir-crazy,” he admitted. “What are you doing here?” he asked, realizing he had intruded on the group.

“Talking.”

“You? Talking?” he asked teasingly.

She smiled a little and then spoke to them. It was far too fast for him to follow. They parted to let her lead Dave out of the group.

“Did you learn much?” he asked, hoping for anything to help him calm his tight nerves.

“They are orc on the outside, but remind me of elves on the inside. They think very highly of Fairer Races, and that there would be no greater thing than to have a child with a Pure Race, as they call the un-warped. You are quite a celebrity.”

“Am I? I feel more like a prisoner.”

“In a way we are, but not by their doing. They are trying to hide us from those who hunt us. They were already at war with them, but they wish to divide the enemy by means of confusion as to where we are.”

“Why? I mean… why do they think we are being hunted in the first place?” he asked her.

They left the common hall and went up a flight of stairs to a hallway. The hallway opened up into a massive common yard. It felt almost like an outdoor park in its vastness and activity. Magnificent pillars soared upward toward a well lit ceiling, and there were many potted trees and plants providing more of an outdoor feel. Many orcs were moving around, talking, browsing, and doing business in an open market.

“They believe that Shannon is the angel Malkazadon,” said Kelly, “that he is being hunted by the one who had him exiled from heaven, Gera’Don.”

“I never got that whole story.” Dave said. “From what I understand, Malkazadon was supposed to be the one who brought war and death to the world, but he is seen as the protector of the souls of the dead, the lost, and the forsaken. A lot of pirates tattoo him on themselves for protection against demons and dark forces.”

He wasn’t the one who brought death and war,” Kelly said, “but it was blamed on him. In the first age, when the angels moved to purge the world of all strife and ungodliness, Malkazadon begged his brothers not to do it. He took the blame off of the people and onto himself to save us. He was cast out of heaven, banished from the ranks of angels, and stripped of all power.”

“Where is Gera’Don in the rest of the story then?” Dave asked, as they continued walking through the great hall.

“Gera’Don was said to be golden in the multitudes and he is mentioned in all the ancient Great Scriptures, in the lists of angels that were present at various times, but he is a rather obscure power. He came with the other angels to aid the races and save the world from the Great War, but he was never mentioned as one of those who were here.

“The priesthoods think that is because he came to earth for some other reason… to capture Malkazadon. They think that he hunts Malkazadon. Even when the other angels were on the earth during the war, Malkazadon had to stay hidden. Otherwise, Gera’Don would strike him down and the world would be without the guardianship that is bound by the blood that flows in his veins. So long as he lives, the world will endure. That’s the story.

“The full story, in the older more complete scriptures, explains that the one who brought death was an angel. He was radiant and beautiful as the sun, and came with soft words and fair sweet song. He offered the glory of God and infinite knowledge and power; all that the people had to do was take his hand.

“The older priesthoods debated over whether the angel was truly a demon, or if the angel was the one called Gera’Don, and the demons were his offspring.  Still who knows,” he shrugged. “When you start to read things that ancient a lot of it is filled with contradictions.”

“They think Shannon is Malkazadon?” Dave asked.

“Yes.”

“And the madman who is hunting us?”

“You don’t know who that is?”

“No.”

“It’s Gerome Forester,” she said.

Dave walked with her a bit, not saying anything. He let the information sink in. It was deeply disturbing at so many levels, he couldn’t even begin to accept it. Gerome, the Holy Pontiff, the ruler of Purt, was hunting them. He had feared such, but dared not to think it.

“Shannon is a good man,” he said after awhile. “He scares the hell out of me most the time, but he is a good man.”

“If he wasn’t, then he would not be with us. Still, you can see why those who live here might think as they do. I don’t know who Shannon was before the civil war, but the pontiff does, and he is entertained by Shannon’s struggles, and amused by the fact that Shannon has to run away instead of face him.”

“An all-out war would cause a great warp; Shannon has said as much.”

“So he runs and the pontiff chuckles at him,” Kelly agreed. “That must be hard for a man like Shannon to swallow, to be helpless while his people fall apart.”

They continued to walk and then saw Ivan running across the yard towards them. He was wearing one of the white robes, but wore it a bit clumsily. He held it up off of the ground, giving him clearance for his feet. He ducked behind Kelly with a rather distressed look.

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, amused at Ivan’s ineptness in wearing the robe.

“She won’t leave me alone,” Ivan panted. “We have to go, and soon.”

They looked over and saw a huge orcan woman coming toward them, obviously following Ivan. She slowed when she saw that Ivan was no longer alone. Ivan moved to keep Dave and Kelly in between him and the woman. She watched him, her chest heaving and her nostrils flaring.

“She’s going to rape me,” Ivan half whispered. “God almighty, can you imagine. She’d bite my head off as a snack afterwards.”

Dave chuckled.

“Come then, my brave comrade, we will put you in Shannon’s shadow to hide.” He put his arm around Ivan’s great shoulders, trying not to laugh too openly.

“Please… where is he?” Ivan pleaded seriously.

Shannon no longer wore the white robes; he, once again, was wearing his black leather. He sat in the common room with Theo and Oirion, resting in the light trance that he commonly used to conserve energy. Oirion was reading a small book, and Theo slept curled up in a chair. Oirion looked up as Dave, Kelly, and Ivan entered.

“Hey.” He closed the book. “I was just wondering where everyone was.”

“How are you feeling?” Dave asked Oirion, as he picked a chair.

“Restless; I am ready to go. This place is just too…” He gestured vaguely, not sure what it was that bothered him.

“White?” Dave offered. “I feel like I’m stuck inside a pearl or something. I want to go.”

Oirion nodded. “As nice as they are, I want to breathe fresh air, even if it’s a bit cold.”

Ivan dropped down, sighing heavily. “So, where are Salma and Tavia? I could really use a good, smooth-faced woman to play with.”

“Now, see,” Dave laughed, “you could have all the women you want, but you’re just too superficial. You leave them weeping in the hallways.”

“It’s not funny, Dave,” he said with a grin.

“What did I miss?” Oirion asked.

“Ivan has an admirer,” Kelly said with a perfectly straight face. She sat easily, not seeming to notice Ivan’s pained expression.

“Oh, come now, Ivan,” Theo said sleepily. “I’ve heard about the Ezeeren and the things they do up on the highlands. Isn’t your god the son of a bear?”

“That’s different!” Ivan said, shocked at the comparison.

Theo chuckled a little. “Maybe,” the blond man said, pushing himself up, “or maybe not. From what I understand, most gods who were born to the world were produced out of rather unlikely unions. Maybe they fail to understand the way it works when they are choosing parents.”

Ivan huffed, folded his arms over his chest and tried to hide how upset he was.

“You’re Purtan, Theo,” Oirion said. “You should not talk of ‘Gods’ in any context other than mere folklore.”

Theo lifted an elegant eyebrow at the priest. “I’m Awens, Oirion.”

“Awens is part of Purt,” Oirion pointed out, a bit sternly.

“Only on a map,” Theo said right back with the same tone.

“The King and Queen regularly host the pontiff. They are great lords of Purt,” Oirion added.

“The King and Queen? The king is a spineless insane fool and the queen is as corrupt as she thinks herself beautiful. She is also a self-proclaimed queen; she is the king’s sister, not his wife.”

“She is your queen!” Oirion said, shocked at Theo’s obvious disgust at the king and queen of Awens.

“She’s a lot of things, Oirion, but my queen… she is not. I would burn in hell before I knelt before her of free will. Oh no. She is a dark and vile woman. I do not want to even talk of her.” He held up a hand to stop Oirion from saying more.

“What’s different about Awens?” Kelly asked. “Why isn’t it part of Purt?”

“In the days before the angels, there were two races that lived on the land of Purt – the men that became as Shannon,” he motioned to Shannon, “true Purtans. They are very similar in this age to what they were before, but have been influenced by the magics they used and the eventual blood of angels. The other race was the Awens. They looked very much like I do, I suppose… a blond version of the Purtans, but tall and built more like Shannon or Dave. The mountain range, which later became known as the Armond Mountain Chain, divided the land and the races lived on either side. In the Dark Age, they united their magics to defend the continent, as a whole, against the invasions of the Razzan. The war was very hard on both races. Then, when the angels came, Purt was made into a single empire through the blood of Armond. The Purtans took the religion and teaching of the angels and let their old religion go. The Awens kept their religion and their magics, and many of the herdsmen and hills-folk still do.”

“Do you?” Oirion asked, almost accusing.

“The true Church of Purt doesn’t deny the reality of other gods and does not demand others to accept their faith. Do not wear that ring and then glare down at me when I make mention of gods who are every bit as real to their people as you are to us,” Theo said with a strength that made even Shannon look up.

“Enough, Oirion,” Dave said, stopping the other man from an argument. “We are all a bit testy. Just drop it.”

Oirion shook his head, but let it go. Theo curled up to go back to sleep. Dave was right; it was pointless and they were all in poor moods. They needed to leave, and soon.

“I do have a question,” Ivan said a bit seriously. “How do we plan to hike the mountains?”

“On our feet,” Dave said.

“No, I mean with the air,” Ivan said. “I can breathe up in the heights, but…” he shrugged looking around for answers.

Shannon opened his eyes and looked at the big man.

“Can you do anything?” Ivan asked the Purtan.

“Not for anyone but myself,” Shannon said. “The Purtan blood some of you have will help. The thin air will be painful, but not fatal as long as we do not linger too long.”

“What about Tavia and Oirion?” Ivan asked, concerned. “What about Travis?” he asked, this time with worry in his voice and eyes.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Riven asked Ivan, as he joined the group around the table. “I thought Ezeerens had the magic to guard the lungs of other races; a magic that could help us all.”

Ivan looked half-desperate and half-trapped. He ran his hand over his head, troubled.

“Ezeer is not what it once was, and the magics have left. I don’t even know if my lungs will hold out in the higher passes.” He looked to Shannon. “Don’t you have any sort of magic?”

“He blew the gate, Ivan,” Theo said. “He’s lucky to be on his feet, let alone casting magics to guard our lungs. What about the priesthood? Don’t you two have something for this?”

“Not in the priesthood,” Riven said sadly. “The dwarves have such magics, but it’s through that priesthood, and I don’t know it.” He folded his arms over his chest, holding his elbows. “So where does that leave us?”

“Maybe the Ulam know some sort of magic.”

“I’m afraid they are not likely to,” Kelly said. “Most of their magic is very Elven in nature or is keyed to the city. There are few wizards and even fewer healers. The elders are the only ones with any real powers.”

“This has to be answered,” Dave said. “We can’t just hike off to have our lungs give out.”

“Will it really be that bad?” Theo asked. “Does the air get that thin?”

“Yes,” Shannon said.

“Were you going to say anything,” Theo asked, “or just lead us into it?”

“It is not time to go yet,” Shannon said. “One of you may think of something, or I might heal enough to help you. There is time still.”

“How much?” Dave asked. “I want to leave here.”

Shannon looked at him a moment before he answered. “We cannot leave until one of you thinks of something or I recover enough to figure something out.”

Ivan got up abruptly; he didn’t say anything, but left with a troubled look.

***********

“Theo.” Ivan shifted on his feet, a bit uneasily. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Theo let the big man enter his chamber. He shut the door; Ivan started to pace. He stopped and looked around at the room.

“Odd how the rooms are all so alike here,” Ivan said. “It’s so impersonal.”

“What’s on your mind, Ivan?” Theo asked, picking up his cup of tea from the small table in the center of the room.

“Oh, I…” he sank to one of the three chairs in the room, gripping his hands in his lap. “Well, first, I guess, I mean… well, I’m sorry about Cindie.”

“She was the one who ran ahead. It’s not your fault.”

“No, I mean…” he ran his hands over his head, “not that.”

“Oh.” Theo sat in the other chair, tucking a foot under him. “Yah, well, it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, but I’m not angry about it.”

“It’s been a long time since I had friends, you know, I just… I’m really sorry. I owe you an apology.”

Theo shrugged, apparently not worried about it. He took a sip of tea. “Ok. Is that all?”

“No.” Ivan shifted and then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know some magics that the others don’t.”

“Yes,” Theo said slowly.

“Well, I used to know some, but… I mean, I haven’t tried to use it, but…” he looked up at Theo. “I don’t know if it’ll work, and if it does, I would rather no one know about it.”

“Why wouldn’t it work now if it did before?”

“I’m not in Ezeer, and the magics that once worked no longer do. You know, with the magic places being defiled by the Church, the Powers have fled even from the ones that they once blessed. I don’t think the Powers will come to me at all, but even if they would in Ezeer, they might not here.”

“And you don’t want Oirion to know?”

“I don’t want anyone to know. I would keep it to myself, but I need help. I can’t do it on my own. I just figure, with you being a sorcerer, you might understand better.”

“You know, I never said I was.”

“Right, well, it’s pretty obvious, Theo. I saw what you did with those arrows. I’ve seen it before…. not done as well, but I’ve seen it.”

“Really? When?” Theo asked excitedly.

“I live in Dacan and fight for gold. Weapons come in many forms. I don’t fight with magic, but others do. It’s all sport,” he shrugged. “I just want to see that we all get through this.”

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Ivan dug into his robe front and pulled out a small roll of white silk. He laid it on the table and unrolled it, revealing several different items: a lock of blond hair, a small piece of paper, a broken red button, a few flakes of darkened red, and a few other tokens, each spaced out carefully. Ivan drew his hand over the collection of items.

“Each thing is a part of the company. Travis’ hair, paper used to wipe the breath of Tavia off a glass, a bit of blood from Dave…” he gestured to them all. “I collected them all carefully and with pure intention. I don’t have anything from you, but I do have this.” He revealed the last thing. It was a little piece of grass. “It’s grass that Shannon spun in his fingers. He was making grass ropes for the fire. It’s a piece of his magic and his touch.”

“How long have you been collecting.”

“Awhile.” Ivan shrugged. “It’s an Ezeeren thing. You carry with you something of those who matter, in order to protect them. It’s a show of respect and love. That’s beside the point.” He motioned it away. “I have nothing from you.”

“Why not?” Theo asked, fascinated by the collection of things. He pulled the chair closer to look at them all.

“It’s complicated.”

“I know you didn’t have any respect for me, Ivan, that’s fine. I didn’t give you any reason to.” He shrugged. “I can’t say I have much for myself. I was just curious why. Is it part of the magic, part of your religion, or is it my magics?”

“It’s partly religion… and partly because I felt that your contribution to the company wasn’t worth my sacrifice; that if one of us should fall in battle, I wouldn’t have given my life to save yours.” Ivan hesitated and then choked the words out, “I was wrong. The rest is chance. Dave’s blood is from play fights, Travis gave me his hair, Shannon dropped the grass… you don’t do things like that.”

“So is that what it is? Those you value equal to, or more than yourself, in a battle?”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.” Ivan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Theo; it’s been so long since I had to even think about it, and then to try and talk about it in another language is hard. And it might not matter at all.”

“You have my interest,” Theo said. “What do you need me to do?”

“It takes two people to do it. It’s sort of an overall blessing for those you adopt as brothers. I so should not be doing this, but it’s what I am going to do anyway.” He rubbed his hands together. “I need you to offer something of yourself, as sort of a payment to the Powers for the others. It’s for the Powers to use, to spin into the magic of the protections. You just have to hold out your hand, let me put the stuff in it, and then give it back to me.”

“Ok. That’s pretty simple.” Theo bit his fingernail, ripping off a bit. “How’s that?”

Ivan smiled.

“Perfect.” He took the small piece and laid it on the white cloth. “Hand out.”

Theo held his hand out and watched as Ivan simply picked up each little bit of the company and set them one after another into Theo’s hand. The big man seemed to do nothing else. Theo’s fingernail was last. He set it carefully with the rest and then closed Theo’s hand around it all. Ivan sat with a bowed head for several moments before he held out his own hand. Theo turned his hand over to pour the things back to Ivan, but the scattered trinkets were no longer there at all. What poured out was a bit of golden sand. It fell into Ivan’s great paw, melting into his skin and then faded into nothing. Ivan let out a great breath, almost as if he was about to cry.

“It worked, I take it,” Theo said, leaning forward to see the giant’s palm.

“It worked,” Ivan whispered in Ezeeren. “They heard me.” He wiped his eyes of tears and drew a deep breath. “Thank you, Theo. I will tell Shannon we can go now.”

Theo nodded, “Sure, Ivan. I hope the magic works well enough to get us all over the passes.”

Ivan smiled and nodded. “Me, too.”

***********

It was early morning when they all gathered on the massive plateau outside the recently reopened gate. Each was led out by an Orcan youth. They could all feel the cold wind blowing into the main yard as they approached the opening where the massive gate once was. A cold mist hung over the valleys. Ice crystals hung in the air, and snow banks, created by strong winds that were now quiet in the stillness of the dawn, rose up, reaching well over their heads. Winter had blown in while they were inside.

They were well dressed in heavy leather pants, soft wool blouses, and woven fur tunics. The pants were reinforced down the outsides of the legs with embroidered designs that went over and along the seam. Over that, they wore vests, fur ponchos, leggings, hoods, gloves and scarves. The orcs weren’t sure of their tolerance levels, so generously gave them various other clothes for their packs, just in case it got too cold for them.

As they gathered outside, they found that their horses were well groomed, their legs wrapped in fur, and the saddle blankets replaced. The new blankets were long, made of brightly dyed wool, and also embroidered with decorative designs. The animals were a little nervous and clearly glad to see the group, but they had been well cared for and it showed.

Holding the reins of Shannon’s horse was an impressive looking Orcan man. He was not wearing the typical white robe worn by the other orcs; he wore a beautifully crafted leather vest and leggings, both embroidered with golden designs that appeared to be ancient scriptures or spell runes of some sort. He had a wicked-looking blade, some sort of halberd jutting up over his shoulder, and a fur cloak that he wore draped over the other. Stunning, carved bone broaches gleaming with lines of silver held it in place. He obviously didn’t require additional clothing, as his massively muscular arms were exposed to cold winter air, covered only by golden armbands etched with symbols that matched his leathers.

Elders with long white hair and wearing pink robes stood gathered together with dozens of younger orcs behind them.

The oldest, a massive man who stood a good foot taller than even Ivan, came forward. He was wearing exquisite clothing, even more extraordinary than anything they had seen yet, and a crown of gold. Every inch was embroidered in great detail, scrolled in gold with designs of flowers, runes, and great battles; quite possibly a historical record of his Orcan clan. He stood, leaning heavily on a great staff and looked at them through his wrinkled eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly and carefully in a voice as soft and smooth as any elf. He spoke in the common language of the people here. They were all able to follow his careful words.

“I invite any of you to stay,” he said, looking at them. He nodded and smiled faintly. “As you said,” he nodded to Shannon, “for your aid, I offer you gifts of friendship.”

He gestured to the orcs who stood behind him.

Two young orcs stepped forward, presenting a fur on their arms. One of the elder orcs folded it back, revealing a small shirt of mail. It was silver and sparkled in the air as he lifted it up; it shimmered like liquid metal.

“This is for the child,” the king said. “It was made by the gnomes of old. It will fit him well and protect him from harm.” The old orc laid it back down, and the two young orcs proceeded to help Travis into it. Travis was thrilled; it was very pretty, and he seemed to have picked up a bit of Ivan’s appreciation for good-looking attire.

Two more young orcs stepped forward with another fur. A different elder folded it back and lifted up a helm of gold that gleamed in the faint light. It was adorned with unusual black horns that came out of the back and wrapped tightly around to the front pointing forward. A round shimmering white stone was set in the front, centered on a black band that ran upward, reinforcing the top.

“This is for the warrior. Every great man should have something on his head. If hair is unworthy, then might this fit his ego better?”

He chuckled as the helm was given to Ivan, who greatly approved. He placed the helm on his head and thumped his chest with pride, then bowed with respect, tears coming to his eyes. The others all smiled at it. The fact that Ivan had shaved his hair had been a point of joke, not only to the group, but to the orcs as well. The next fur was brought forward.

“This is for the warrior woman,” the king continued, as an elder held up a sword that was as massive as it was stunning. It had a great golden handle set with bloodstones. The hilt, handle, and pommel were solid, crafted as a single piece of gold and ran down the blade on both sides, like two spears etched with detail, reinforcing the blade over half of its length. The blade itself was smoked black and etched with designs of silver flames and phoenixes. “It is ancient and powerful and worthy of her. Might she never forget how close to the fire she went to save Shannon, and that she is his ally and sister.” Kelly accepted the gift with humble gratitude.

“This is for the dwarf,” he said as a double-headed war axe was presented. Light reflected up its razor edge and down the veins of silver that were set in the rosewood handle. “Might it serve him as well as it served his kinsmen, those who once dwelt in these mountains and who offered us trade and allies when no others would.”

The king lifted from the next fur, a tiny thing. He held it up so it could catch the light. For a moment, a soft glow of lavender light illuminated from the stone in its center.

“This is a gift of great value to us, and maybe more to you. It is a ring of insight and intuition. It should help you to choose your roads more carefully, and hopefully it will remind you to look deep beyond the skin and not to forget us.” It went to Oirion and was placed on the first finger of his right hand.

An elder took from the next fur a long coat of Purtan mail. It was even longer than Ivan’s. While it had no jewels on it, it was made of tighter rings and shone in the light as if it was lit from within. The beauty of it bespoke the craftsmanship and power of the race that was all but dead now, making it just as impressive as Ivan’s mail.

“This is for the Son of Purt. May it be worn proudly and serve him well.” It was passed over to Dave. Ivan helped him into it, admiring its craftsmanship and elegance.

The next gift emerged. It was a plain wooden staff with four large claws on the top gripping a large clear stone. The stone was perfectly spherical and flawless, but the entire staff seemed unremarkable in comparison to the other gifts.

“This is a sorcerer’s staff. May it be of use to the only sorcerer we know. Good luck in unlocking its powers.” It was handed to Theo. Theo bowed to him with a noble grace that said more than words could have.

The orcan king look at little Salma. Orcs fed on sphinxes, naturally, and even if these weren’t full orcs, they still had the inkling in them…. just as she had the inkling to run.

“To the brave cat, this” he said. A bow was held up. It was a re-curve made of light wood and bone, laminated and decorated with intricate designs. There was also a quiver made of golden leather, set with dark green and brown tassels, and a matching belt. She lit up and smiled as she took the gift. She bowed her thanks, belted on her new quiver, and swung the bow over her back.

“To the mother,” he said, as a small round buckler was lifted up. It was lightweight, crafted of smooth white leather, and had a design set into it with small silver nails. The design was that of a woman standing with a sword in one hand and grapevine in the other. She accepted the gift, bowing in gratitude.

He looked last to Shannon.

“I have no single gift worthy of you,” he said. “I give you the mended body of your brother, I give you our gratitude, and I give a day that we will all recall and pray for you, celebrating the day in which you freed our people. Even though the prayers of healing, for us, have not been heard, perhaps our prayers to heal others will be. I give another gift that might be of aid in your ventures.” He pulled a small book out of his pocket and held it toward Shannon. Shannon held out both hands, one under the other, and took it. The orc smiled faintly and motioned to the one who held the horse.

“My final gift to you is Kaava, my grandson. He has asked for the honor of traveling along with you as companion, guide, and guardian.”

Kaava bowed to them.

“May heaven walk with you wherever you go, and may your lives reflect your God.” The Orcan king finished with the prayer of his people, bowed, and then they all went inside, leaving the group to depart unwatched.

“You don’t have a horse?” Tavia asked Kaava. He shook his head and smiled.

“Orcs aren’t naturally up for riding horses,” Kaava said in a deep full voice, “but rather, running them down instead. I have greater endurance and speed than any of these horses.”

“You can outrun a horse?” Riven asked, impressed. “On two legs?”

“No,” he said and then smiled, showing that he had teeth like a dog, “on four.”

“On four?” Dave asked.

“I can pop my shoulders out and run on my knuckles.” He made a fist, showing that when he closed his hand tightly, four long spikes shot out the back of it, extending several inches over his knuckles. “Traction,” he explained with a smile.

“Remind me not to have you punch me,” Dave said, going to his horse.

Kaava laughed a deep chuckle, and then lifted Travis up into the child-sized saddle. Travis smiled at the big Orcan man and giggled a little.

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Book 2 of Princes and Priests-Against All Odds

INTRODUCTION                               .

“Oirion,” Theo smiled brightly, “you’re up! We were beginning to forget what you looked like. Wine?” he offered, half-rising to get him some.

“No, thank you.” The walk here had made him tired and his back hurt from the length of time on his feet. Nonetheless, he was glad to be there. He worried the wine would make it too hard to get up and get back to his room. Already stumbling, wine would not help his dignity any.

The energy that had been emotionally violating was all but gone now. It began to fade as soon as the healing sessions stopped. He was still angry at Shannon, but now that it was over, he was begrudgingly grateful it had been done and that he was back on his feet. Seeing his friends cheered him up even more.

As they happily welcomed him back, Oirion realized that he had never seen these people actually cleaned up.

He looked at them all, clean and fresh, and realized that these were all impressive people.

Theo was the most changed, he thought. He looked like a different person with his hair cleaned and tied back from his face. With Cindie no longer hanging on him, he seemed to look a lot bigger and stronger. Maybe the man had even gotten thicker and taller, but it was hard to say. Theo almost looked regal in a delicate sort of way, and oddly familiar, Oirion thought.

“Where’s Shannon?” he asked, as Travis crawled into his lap.

“Who knows?” Ivan said, leaning forward to take a slice of fruit. “We haven’t seen him since we came inside. Not a word about him from the Ulam-Ar, either.”

“The Ulam-Ar?” Oirion asked.

“That’s the name of the city, and calling them orcs is just wrong,” Theo said, filling his own glass again as well as topping off Riven’s.

“How do you feel?” Tavia asked.

“Just a little sore,” he said modestly. Travis snuggled up against his chest and sighed. He went limp in a state of relaxed comfort.

“Someone missed you,” Kelly said softly.

Oirion looked down at the boy in his lap. He had never really been around children that much, but this one seemed to get into his lap a lot. He had found himself getting jealous when the boy found someone else to sit with, a rather unlikely emotion, all things considered. They were all given turns, but usually it was Theo.

Travis had even found Riven’s lap once. Oirion smoothed the child’s hair and looked over at his mother, who sat watching. She looked radiant in white. He tried not to think about her at all… her, or any other woman.

Shannon’s words had been eating at him since they had been spoken and he hated that. Sure, he knew Saint Tyredelle was married, but he hadn’t really thought about it; he hadn’t looked at it in that way. Why did it have to be Shannon to point it out to him? He hated Shannon right now for being right all the damned time, for having to be the one to force him through things that he feared to do, and for just being so damned perfect.

“Are there any plans as to what to do now?” Oirion asked.

“Not too much,” Riven said. “The choice is to go on, or stay here. We haven’t really talked about it much. What with both you and Shannon not being around, we couldn’t really decide anything.”

“Was he hurt?” Oirion asked, wondering what they knew.

“Not really,” Dave said. “The whole thing just sort of wore him out. There were a lot of wards on that damn wall, plus the Seal. He was thrown pretty far, but he looked alright, I guess,” he added.

“The Seal?” Oirion asked.

“The Church Seal,” Riven said softly. “The cardinals sealed them in here to die.”

“Surely not,” Oirion said in disbelief.

Riven looked at the other priest, displaying the truth in his eyes. Oirion saw it in the dwarf’s haunted look, and was grateful when the man dropped his eyes and said no more about it.

“How did he break it?” Oirion asked. “I thought it was unbreakable.”

“He burned it and then froze it,” Theo said. “It was impressive. You should’ve seen it, Oirion. He just stood there holding an arm up and all the wards started to spark.” Theo excitedly jumped to his feet as he continued. “They kept sparking until they were almost gone, and then he went like this…” Theo put his arms down, and then thrust his arms forward, “…and poof! He caught on fire and shot fire out his palm… so strong that it drove the fight back with its heat. Then he reached up and took ice and hit it again. It was so cold, our breath actually froze. It was awesome! The whole thing, wall and all, just– BOOM! It was gone, and we were all thrown back and covered in the stone dust. It was so awesome!” he explained, excited and more animated than they had ever seen him. The others felt the same enthusiasm, even if they didn’t show it. No one mentioned that Theo had thrown around his own power. It wasn’t forgotten, but no one was about to speak of it to Oirion.

“Theo was very impressed,” Kelly said almost fondly. Theo looked over at her, his eyes dancing.

“I was! I am! My God, who has power like that?” Theo said, returning to his seat.

“Shannon,” Salma said indifferently, with a shrug. “Speaking of the devil,” she added sweetly. She nodded her chin toward Shannon as he came in through the door. He was wearing the white robe that Oirion had seen earlier, but the high collar that was buttoned up was no longer blue; it was white as well. In the robe and the sunlight, he looked like a different man.

The way his new clothing fit showed that he had a strong chest and that the thickness of his arms wasn’t due to his clothes as they all had previously thought. Also, his hair was undone from the braid. It ran straight down his back, nearly to his knees. His hands were, not surprisingly, in his own gloves.

Oirion heard Tavia breathe in at the sight of him. She was clearly impressed. So was he, but not in the way she was. He had once studied Saint Tyredelle. Shannon in that robe and with his hair in that style looked so like the painting that Oirion had in his chambers, that it made him feel almost like he was falling and that he had just hit the floor.

It is just the Purtan in Shannon, he reasoned. They are both Purtans in white, that’s all; but it was damned unsettling.

“You look almost saintly in that,” Riven said, trying to shake off the same feeling. Shannon didn’t really smile at that. He sat in the chair that was left and smoothed out the robe’s length.

“It’s very flattering,” Salma said.

He looked up at her. “Just different,” he said.

“Where have you been?” Kelly asked. “We missed you.”

“Resting,” he said. “How do you feel?” he asked Oirion, taking the topic off of himself.

“Sore… but better.”

Shannon nodded and then glanced around at the group. That was it from Shannon. There was no mention of anything about Oirion’s healing; no ‘I told you so’; not even a look to press it. Sometimes, Oirion was not at all sure of what to make of Shannon. Any other man would have made some issue over the fact that he was right about forcing Oirion to be healed.

“We have been invited to stay here as long as we want,” Shannon said.

“Do we?” Theo asked. “It’s nice here… and warm.”

“This is where that ‘split-up later’ comes into play,” Dave said, leaning back and putting his left ankle up on his right knee. “What are you doing, Shannon?”

“I am going.”

“Why?” Tavia asked. “We could all spend the winter and move on in the spring.”

“These people are already in a war with the Church. They do not need my presence to make it worse.”

“But you could help them,” Theo objected.

“You apparently have a lot of power; you could set their enemies back more than a step or two,” Tavia said.

“I could,” he agreed.

“So, why don’t you?” Riven asked.

“Because, it would turn into the sort of war that created the bog and that warped this land, and continues to do so. I am not so arrogant as to start running into every war I cross. It is better for you and for everything within a thousand miles that I do not stay and help them. It would be best to put the orcs between me and anything that would challenge me. What I am doing is not the question at hand. The question is: who is staying and who is going. It is a personal choice and has to be made on your own. I am going, but what are you doing?”

They all sat there quietly, considering their next move.

“I’m going,” Dave said, “for whatever reasons.”

“Me too,” Salma said. “There’s no way I’d stay here.”

“I’ll go,” Kelly said, and then looked questioningly at Theo.

Ivan licked his lips and thought about it a moment. “Yah, yah, I guess I’m in, too,” he decided.

“Oirion,” Riven asked, “you going?”

Oirion looked at Shannon, the man who gave him that eerie feeling… the feeling that everything he believed, everything he valued, everything he knew to be true, was a lie; that he was on the verge of a cliff and was about fall off…. if it weren’t for that man’s patience.

“I think we should all stay together,” Tavia said. “We have begun to be able to work together, to rely on each other’s strengths and to compensate for each others’ weaknesses. I’m not an orc and I don’t feel comfortable sitting inside a mountain that was very close to becoming a tomb. I don’t think we can do it alone or in little groups. I think we should just look at each other as family now and do what we must to survive.”

“I agree,” Theo said, nodding.

“Then is it decided?” Riven asked. “We all go. When do we go, Shannon?”

“When the weather breaks.”

“How long do you think that will be?” Theo asked.

“I do not know.”

“What do we do until then?” Ivan asked.

“Make use of the time,” Salma said, “Rest… and maybe someone might teach Travis how to use that dagger. Of course, we could make use of our beds in other ways than just rest.” She shot Shannon a look. “What do you think?”

Shannon just gave her a steady look. Obviously he was not interested.

“He’s a child,” Tavia said, glancing toward Travis.

“I was seven when I killed my first man,” Kelly said. “He’s nearly that age. This isn’t the fields of Purt; it isn’t the ports of Dacan, either, but worse. The boy needs to know how to defend himself. It may save us all grief later. I’d like to teach him myself.”

Travis sat up and smiled. He scrambled up and ran to her. He jumped into her lap, threw his arms around her neck and kissed her nose, then snuggled into her big tattooed arms.

Dave looked with a startled expression at the boy who had seemed to hear. He opened his mouth to say something of it, but caught a look from Shannon. His uncle gave him a small shake of his head to say to let it go and keep it to himself. Dave had to wonder what sort of magic Shannon might have laid down that the others all seemed oblivious to the boy’s change in manner.

“That settles it, I guess,” Dave laughed, changing the topic. “I’ll train with Ivan some more. I should be able to take him out soon – in play, anyway.”

“Ha!” Ivan laughed. “Bring it on, boy.” Dave grinned, looking forward to testing himself against the big gladiator.

“What about Theo; you up to play a bit?” Dave asked.

Theo looked at them, a skeptical look on his face.

“No bows,” Ivan said quickly to Theo, who smiled a tiny bit. It was obvious that tension remained between the two, but all things considered, Theo was very tolerant of the man who had slept with his wife. Especially now that they knew he need not have been so tolerant.

Now that they all had a chance to get to know each other in relative ease and comfort, they were getting along – even Ivan and Theo.

***********

“I think it’s a good idea,” Theo said out loud.

“What’s that?” Oirion asked, as he sat trying to unlock the power of the staff that Riven had brought to him.

“What?” Theo asked, looking over at the man. “Oh, I was just thinking about the way that Shannon spells his clothes. It might seem vain really, but then, in a situation like this one, it really pays off. Here we are all sore and worn out, and part of that is due to the condition of our clothes.”

“Shannon spells his clothes?” Ivan asked. “Really?”

“You haven’t noticed that his clothes are always clean and they never seem to rip or wear?” Theo asked. “It’s magic and a lot of it. I can see that… can’t you two?” he asked the priests.

“All I see is a shield,” Riven said, “a wall of clear crystal.”

“I don’t even see that,” Oirion said. “It’s like he has no power beyond the very basics of life.”

“Now that is interesting,” Theo mused.

“How do you see magic?” Oirion asked.

“Oh,” Theo gestured off-handedly, “it’s in the family blood-line and I’ve studied it… a lot, but it’s not very practical. It’s nothing like Dave’s magic,” he shrugged.

“Which is dangerously close to illegal,” Oirion reminded Dave.

“I know.” Dave looked up from his book a little. “You notice how slow I was to use it. Keep in mind, Oirion, that I’m a sailor. I don’t belong to any set national laws, and so far, the pontiff hasn’t tried to enforce his views on the Waters. When he does, he will have a war. The pirates will unite against him, no question about it… and if he tells me that I need to be cleansed to save my soul, I’ll lead the pirates myself. If it goes to war, I imagine that Norwood will join with the pirates as well.”

“If he did order it, it would be for the best of all.”

“Why? So no one could challenge him or his hunting games?” Dave asked. Everyone was silent. Oirion looked at Dave a long time. They all expected Oirion to blow up as he would for Shannon, but Dave was not Shannon and didn’t provoke him in the same way. The truth was spoken, though, and Oirion didn’t bother to deny it. That alone said a great deal to several of them.

“Even in the laws that might seem wrong, there is a purpose,” Oirion said. “Even if the pontiff was corrupt, he belongs to God. Even if he thinks he is serving himself, or some other entity or purpose, he isn’t; he still serves God. In the end, the laws are the laws of God. Perhaps not dealt out in a fashion that is purely God’s, but the law holds.

“Yes, the laws that are rising up against magic seem unfair and extreme, and a lot of people are upset at what is being lost, but in another few generations, there will be no chance, ever, of another Mage War.”

“God gave us the powers and deals the powers out to us before we are born.” Dave said. “If He meant us to not use them, He would simply take them away – like a parent who takes away a toy that a child abuses and hurts himself with. He’s a good parent, Oirion, and no good parent lets his children play with things that could hurt them.”

“God gave us gifts and promised He would let us keep them. He did not promise He’d always let us play with them. He’s hanging that sword up on the wall over our bedroom doors,” Oirion argued.

Dave considered taking the argument farther and pushing as he would in a sailor’s tavern, but he didn’t have the eloquence of Shannon, and this was Oirion; he wasn’t about to convert the man or even get him to see the other side of things.

“So, seeing that you feel that way,” Theo said. “It’s not the power you so dislike, it’s the fact that a man would use it. But Oirion, if all the good men ceased to use their power, then only those who did not follow God’s way would have power. That seems backwards to me.”

“That’s why you don’t like Shannon,” Ivan said. “He has power, a lot of it, and it’s old. He, of all people, should know what magic can do. If what you say is true, then he should be opposing its use.”

“I suppose so.” Oirion lied, but thought to himself, that was only part of it. But, there was so much more to his dislike of Shannon than that.

“Is that not, then, also a point for it,” Dave asked, not able to let go just yet, now that Theo was on his side. “Those who have seen the powers do not let go. They are angry and frustrated with the Church, and say it’s not what it once was. It’s not the same religion anymore. It’s so humanized that most Purtans don’t even acknowledge it. They hold to their old ways and their old prayers; they grieve that a false prophet is in their holy places. And Shannon… he wears the cleric’s robes, only in black – the Purtan color of grief. That should say something to you.”

“So you think that Shannon was a priest once?” Ivan asked, almost excited at the idea.

They all looked at him. None of them had ever thought that, except Dave, and then only because his father had said it, but he never really believed it.

“Well, if he’s wearing the same uniform he wore back then, only in black, wouldn’t that say that he was once a cleric? And that the whole thing is so tainted and corrupt that he is in black to make a point? Purtans are slow to recover from grief and slow to adapt. That’s why they’re falling; they just can’t adjust to a world without the Von Armonds to rule them,” Dave reasoned.

“He does rub his hand like he’s playing with a ring,” Theo muttered.

“I can’t believe that,” Oirion said, but his heart was pounding. He had heard those prayers, and he was not the one saying them. He reasoned that he had been allowed to hear the angels that watched over his prayers…. that somehow they had carried on his prayers, but that idea was faltering.

“If he was, he isn’t now,” Oirion said. “I do not think well of any priest who would take off his ring just because of a political change.”

“No one said he took it off,” Ivan responded with an odd intensity. “You know they say that most vampires are priests who became too powerful, and the other vampires couldn’t resist their blood and the desire to hunt them down. Do you think that Shannon might have escaped a vampire attack? If he was a vampire, he would never be able to be out in the light; he wouldn’t be able to deal with Oirion at all, and that’s for damn sure!

“ priest goading him like Oirion does? No way could a vampire take that. He’d rip Oirion’s soul out and bathe in the pleasure of that touch of power. But what if he was sort of injured before he escaped? What if, instead of helping him, the pontiff ordered him to be cleansed?” He gestured to Dave, “And he sort of joined the other side, like Dave said? That would explain his anger at the Church and why the Church is hunting him. He’s half priest, half something else.”

“You can’t be half vampire,” Riven said. “You are, or you’re not. You are either killed by the vampiric magic, or you change into one. They have no halfway.”

“Just a thought,” Ivan shrugged.

“What do you think?” Theo asked Dave, who was quiet on this topic.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. He and your father were friends, weren’t they?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“What’s he like then… when he’s not under stress and being attacked by a Hunter every time he turns around?” Ivan asked.

“He’s quiet and he doesn’t talk to crew or to passengers; he gets on and he gets off. Now and then he has dinner with the captain, and that’s it.”

The conversation ended when Shannon entered the room. He didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t care. He was probably used to it, Riven thought. Riven looked at Ivan. The man was apparently not the idiot that he seemed to be. Maybe Shannon was right to call him on his feigned stupidity.

Ivan had shaved and was happily wearing the jewelry he had, plus the few trinkets Riven had given him from the witch’s bag. The big man shifted and looked at Shannon.

“Good morning, Shannon,” Ivan said in his ever-cheerful manner.

Shannon looked at him as he took a chair in the common room they all shared.

“Good morning, Ivan,” he said back, rather well-mannered.

“Shannon, we were just talking,” Ivan grinned, “and I have a question. Where did you study as a youth?”

“Ulam Bac,” he said, opening the book he had brought in.

“Not the same city now, is it?”

“No, it is not the same city at all.”

“You think that, maybe, the pontiff saw to that on purpose… to make it clear to the Purtans that their empire has been taken away?”

“No. I think he is an idiot and has no idea how to maintain a city like that. He never was a very good wizard. He was an over-pious zealot with an attitude about being a human in a Purtan empire.

“Hmm, that must be just as annoying as a heretic with an attitude problem about being a Purtan in a Human Empire,” Oirion said cheerfully. Shannon lifted his gaze to look at him, not impressed.

“You must be feeling better,” Shannon said.

Oirion smiled sweetly, but Shannon had already gone back to his book.

“It’s more than that,” Theo said. “The magics of the older cities are keyed to the lines of kings, and the King of Crouse isn’t home.”

“King of Crouse?” Ivan asked, interested. “The Emperor?”

“The last true King of Crouse was the Emperor, Tyrell. He inherited Crouse through his mother’s line. He was of the line of Von Armond through his father,” Theo said. “The Imperial Power of his father’s line was more powerful than any other line because they were not only of the line of Armond, but also because they married into the line of Von Asar…… Asar being an angel from Purt whose line was later lost, but whose bloodline survived within the Von Armond line.”

“Wait,” Ivan interrupted. “I thought Ulam Bac was in Crouse and that made the emperor also the king of Crouse by default.”

“No,” Theo said. “Ulam Bac is a city state ruled by the Emperor alone. Each kingdom has a king from a line of angels. You must have the blood of an angel in you to be keyed into the Wells of Purt and thus into the underlying power of every kingdom in Purt.

“The Emperor is keyed into all the wells of Purt, while each king is keyed into only one. Ulam Bac is where the angels were called from and where they left us from; the very stone of the earth there is sacred…or was once,” he added as an afterthought.

“Maybe I am stupid, but I still don’t follow…” Ivan scratched at the stubble on his head and scowled. “I am confused. Tyrell was king of Crouse through his mother, and his son, Tyredelle, was king of Norwood through his mother. Does that mean that Tyredelle would have been king of both Crouse and Norwood, as well as heir to the throne of the emperor?”

“Rank does not always follow the paternal line,” Theo explained. “Purtans rarely marry in the way we think of it now. The higher rank gets to name the child and the purer bloodline gets the heir. Tyredelle was king of Norwood because his mother’s bloodline flowed more powerfully than his father’s, but the Von Armond outranked his mother’s line of Norwood. It would have been that each of Tyredelle’s children would have gotten one of the kingdoms in time and he would have ruled as emperor without the daily burden of a kingship at all.

“In his arrogance, Tyrell could not let go of Crouse and so held it as his own until he vanished. Now, Gerome has put false kings on the thrones, almost all of them pure human with no real tie to Purt or the angels at all.”

“So how did they choose the right line for the throne if the line of heirs was broken? In Ezeer it is known, as the prince and heir can shape-shift. There is no doubt or debate ever.”

“When the first line of Von Armond died, the descendants of the other daughters of Armond came to the palace and one by one they went to the yard of the Sun and stood on the Seal of the Angels and knelt before the angels. Many passed with no reaction at all, but eventually a young woman knelt and the seal lit up and the city flared with life. She was crowned Empress; Tyrell is her great-great grandson. Every Emperor must kneel and be chosen is such a way. It is not always the eldest nor is it always the son. Angels look at the soul, not the flesh.”

“Oh,” Ivan said with a scowl still on his brow.

“Not all of the lines are dead,” Oirion said, “so if the Imperial Magic were true, then the magics themselves would follow the line of kingship.”

“The heir to the throne of each of the kingdoms within Purt is chosen by the Emperor,” Theo said. “The power of the bloodline is only activated when the Emperor names the king. The magic of the angels chooses the Emperor; the kings do not. The fact that Ulam Bac is dark is proof that the angels don’t accept Gerome as Lord of Purt, and therefore the power of the bloodlines cannot be activated by him.”

“The line of Armond is dead,” Oirion said. “The magic is void. No Emperor will ever name a king.”

“The Von Armonds are not the first dynasty,” Dave explained. “They’re the third. They were preceeded by the children of Arell, the first daughter of Von Armond, the Von Arells. Arell was the first dynasty, but her dynasty was ended when each of her sons died in battle heir-less. It was a very hard time for all races. The second dynasty was a far descendant of hers, through her son TyVennenar. He had only one son and the line held for only three generations before war and fate wiped them out.

“The third dynasty was from the line of Landrahh, a daughter of Armond, like Theo just said. To make it clear to all Purt that the line was of Armond, they took up his name. All her children and their descendents are called Von Armond. All of the older lines of Purt who use Von before their names are descendants of angels; that’s what Von means. Once, most all of them were lines descended from Armond, but all the twelve angels who stayed with Purt had children who became the kings and queens of the kingdoms of Purt. In the last few thousand years the lines have all met with violent ends.

“The right person…anyone with the blood of angels needs only to stand on the Angels’ Ring in the Yard of the Angel’s. We just need to find the right soul and stand them in place and … poof! new Emperor. Why do you think that yard is sealed off? Gerome has made certain no one accidentally stands in that spot. It is just said that as long as a Von Armond sits the throne Purt will never fall. Purt is partial to the Von Armonds, but that is not to say the angels will simply turn their backs on Purt if other lines are found worthy.”

Shannon lifted his eyes to look at Dave, watching the young man without drawing any attention to himself.

“Most of the bloodlines of the old kings are dead as well. Civil war will do that,” Oirion said. “There is no Line of Kings; no great event that will happen. Purt will never be restored to that sort of glory.”

“There are many lines still. Few are in power, but the lines still live,” Theo said. “The King of Awens is the true line of Awens. He is a Von, even if they never put it on their name.”

“He’s also insane,” Dave added, “but Theo’s right, Oirion. You, of all men, should know that. Isn’t your grandfather Grand Duke Hennen, as in, Von Valreen?”

Oirion didn’t say anything; he just looked at Dave as if the man had betrayed him somehow.

“What are you all talking about?” Salma asked, with a curious and slightly worried look on her face.

“They are talking about the line of rule in Purt,” Ivan said. “Do you know much about it?”

“No. I know about the rule of my people and pretty much that’s it. I’ve never been to Purt, you see,” she added sweetly. “There seems to be a big wall in the way.”

“Purt was ruled by the god Armond in the last great war and he had several children. Purt says three, but…” Dave shrugged to say he wasn’t so sure. “The three daughters were the famous ones and they ruled after Armond and his siblings went back to heaven. Each brother and sister of Armond, including himself, started what they call the Line of Kings. They have the blood of gods in them and so extra power. The line called Von Armond has two of those lines in them and so are a little more than any other, but a von is a von. The line of Armond was hunted out. They were all killed down to the last stray bastard and so there is no chance at a new emperor there. You have to be an heir of Armond to open the star glyph in the palace of Purt. It’s really very sad. The day the emperor vanished, the whole world should have risen up in objection, but no one did and now… well, now we are all stuck with that mistake,” he explained in a simple manner that made it all seem very simple.

“Wait! You’re a prince?” Ivan asked Oirion, suddenly shocked. “I’d never have guessed.”

“I am not a prince,” Oirion said. “I am a priest.” Turning to Dave, he continued, “and how, do tell, does a sailor know anything about Valreen?”

Dave leaned forward a little, insulted that Oirion assumed he was uneducated.

“What does that mean?”

“I find it more and more unlikely that you are anything you claim,” Oirion said. “You pretend to be a simple sailor, and yet not only do you know magics that are not taught lightly, you seem to know a great deal of politics that do not concern you.”

“And you, Father Oirion, seem very blind and out of the loop. But yes.” He leaned back spreading his arms. “I’m not a simple sailor.” He stood up grandly. “I am the true Emperor of Purt! Chosen by the Line of Angels and set apart from you all,” he mocked. “Kiss me, little priest.” He held out his hand to be kissed.

“David,” Shannon said seriously. “Sit down and do not say such things.”

Dave dropped back into his chair.

“Oirion was being an ass. I thought it was only right that he see how it looks when others behave as stupidly as he does.”

“To even think such things could bring a great deal of grief upon you. Do not make mention of such again and do not mock the throne.”

Dave was about to say something but dropped it due to the quiet seriousness of Shannon’s tone.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Did you get that book open yet, Riven?” Shannon asked, changing the topic.

“No.”

“You have the time; you might want to work on it.”

Ivan chuckled at Riven.

Riven grabbed the book from the floor and tossed it at Ivan.

“Well? What do you think of that?”

Ivan caught the book in one hand. He looked at it and tossed it back.

“Oh, dear God, it’s a book!” he said, mocking shock and horror. “You best burn that before any priest sees you with it.” He laughed a great hearty laugh. “How are you feeling, Shannon?” he asked, changing the subject. “I imagine the fire burned you pretty good. You healed up?”

Shannon didn’t even look up.

“Well enough.”

“Can I ask you something?” Salma asked, hopping up into her chair and sitting cross- legged in it. “Why would you endure fire like that for a race and people that you do not know and care nothing for? Every magic within a thousand miles will have felt the shockwaves of that explosion, and your hunters now know exactly where you are. Why would a man of your power play hero?”

Shannon looked up at her a moment, his hand resting on the page of the book he had been trying to read.

“The same reason I would tolerate you, little kitten.” he said in a rather honest tone.

“Even if you hadn’t, your friends would have; or maybe not friends… comrades.” She chose a better word.

“Then let it be the same reason that they are even that to me.”

“What is it?” Oirion asked. “Compassion, Shannon? Mercy?” he challenged. “Is it guilt for getting us into this in the first place, or a desire to seek some sort of redemption?”

“Maybe a portable food source,” Ivan laughed. “Every blood wizard needs a priest or two on hand, right, Oirion? Come on, Dave; let’s go play and let Oirion be an ass all on his own.”

“Ignore him,” Salma said of Oirion. “Why, Shannon? You confuse me, and I do not understand why a power such as you would bother. You risk your soul. If he catches you, the end will not be pretty.”

“If every ally against darkness would stop a moment,” Tavia spoke softly and sadly, “and help each other, it would make all of them stronger. Yet, each covers his eyes and denies the truth, or… they fight alone, refusing the aid of others because of their pride and the distrust created by the very thing they fight. If people would just understand that if you are an enemy of my enemy, then you are my friend.” Tavia smoothed Travis’ hair. She rested her cheek on his head, her eyes quiet and expression sad. “Not even in one person is everything in exact order. Why would a world, or a divinity, be any different? We are parts of the whole and reflect it back, creating as we go. To join like purposes together, even if from very different points, makes all stronger as they unite. Would this group be together anywhere else in the world, let alone united in a purpose? No, I think not. Yet here we are.” She lifted her eyes to Salma.

“That might answer why you are here, Mother,” Salma said, with softness to her voice that they had never heard, “but why is Shannon here? His truth will be no less than yours.” She looked back to Shannon.

Travis got out of his mother’s arms and then crawled into Shannon’s lap. Shannon barely seemed to notice, simply adjusting for the boy. Travis, however, put his hands on Shannon’s face and made him look at his eyes.

“You should tell her,” Travis said.

“Why?”

“She will help us.”

“I do not know why I am still here, Travis. I ask myself that very thing often. How do I tell her what I do not know myself?”

“You know.” He smiled at the man and then snuggled into his chest, getting comfortable.

Shannon looked back to the sphinx. After a moment, he asked her, “Do you know what a Holy Vow is?”

“I can imagine… but not exactly. I have not heard the term.”

“It is a vow made on, in, and with the very fibers of the world and all of the touching realms beyond. It is spun into the stones, the air, and the water. All magic will work to its end, and it will affect the very cores of your flesh and mind. It is made in the presence of at least three Archangels. It is rare and very powerful. At least three in this company are bound with such to the House of Armond. I cannot make myself think it mere chance. If I would honor that, I would be obligated to protect them and do all in my power to keep them safe and well. Holy Vows made on the foundation stones of Ulam Bac is why I am here.”

She leaned back in her chair, thinking about it. “Ok,” she said, smiled, hopped up, and happily left.

Travis looked up and smiled. Shannon turned his focus back to his book, his arms around the boy in his lap.

“You know it’s not chance,” the boy said.

“I would not think so.”

“I love you,” Travis said with a peaceful content. Shannon sat, almost stunned for a moment. He had felt the truth of the boy’s simple honest love. No one had loved him in a very long time. The thought someone might was so removed from him, it was very shocking. Travis patted Shannon’s arm and giggled. “Didn’t you know that?” He laughed inside Shannon’s mind.

“It has just been a very long time since anyone felt that about me.”

“I have always loved you,” Travis said with a strange seriousness. “Read to me.”

Shannon looked back to the book and read through his mind to the boy. Travis listened until he drifted off to sleep.

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More Soon

more of the Novels of Shannon coming soon.  Against All Odds, book two, I will start to post in the next day or two.  To see more art, quotes, and segments check out   https://www.facebook.com/anjmacz