Knight Templar in Training - 4. Life-Stealer

Alten sat in a comfortable chair, slowly puffing a long, white pipe. The stem of the pipe was slightly bowed; the bowl was unusually wide at the top, and unusually narrow at the bottom. In other worlds at other times, this style of pipe would be known as the Church Warden’s Pipe. On the other side of the fire, James sat patiently, waiting for his senior to speak. The tween had been thoroughly debriefed by Alten and certain other senior clerics, among them those who had studied the slimy, evil, puzzle coins that James had brought back from his first mission. A few of these clerics were beginning to realize that there was real Evil in the world. However, a group of clerics led by Senshen was skeptical, even to the point of refusing to examine the coins. Alten, although Senior, was first among equals, and had to rule by consensus.

Alten sighed, and knocked the dottle from the now dead pipe. “James,” he began, looking fondly at the tween who had served the Light so well. “Let’s look at what we have. The coins were definitely Evil. Those who examined their aura suggest that the coins had been used to guide Evil magic-users in the distant past. More recently, they’ve been used as talismans, but not guides for folding magic. The boy you rescued, the one who smuggled the coins to his little brother from whom you obtained them, has told us that the coins were first stolen—and recognized as Evil—by one of the three boys whose bodies were returned to their parents. Apparently they passed the coins from one to the other in order to befuddle the trail, to increase the chances that they could be smuggled out before they were caught. Those three murdered boys, and the one you rescued, are heroes.

“The boy you rescued has confirmed your story of green blood—not,” he said, seeing James’ reaction, “Not that I ever disbelieved you. The boy says that one of the men who are running the school is a mixed Human-Lizoid creature.”

Alten paused while James continued to wait patiently. James had learned that Alten liked to think out loud, and that to interrupt the Senior was to risk not hearing all that the man was thinking.

“I had not thought a Human-Lizoid cross was possible; in fact, I’d not thought of it, at all. Certainly never heard of it. You know, Lizoids are a mage-created creature. And an Evil mage, at that. No servant of the Light could ever have altered a Human in that way. Whoever he was, he was skilled. Against all odds, the Lizoids seem to have bred true for thousands of generations.

“The boy you brought in…and that was good thinking, too…the boy has some innate magic. Enough, it seems, to have seen the Evil in the coins, and enough to know that there’s an even more powerful source of Evil at the school. Had he been trained, he would have seen more, but even untrained he saw a noxious warping of the lines of magic. The warping appeared to him to be an oily smoke that always flowed from the quarters of the men running the school. He’s been questioned repeatedly, but can tell us no more than that.

“His description suggests that at the school there is a magical item of Evil significantly greater than those coins. Whatever it is, it has affected the men who run the school. Likely, it is also affecting the students. If unchecked, it could affect the entire village.

“James, we must find out what that Evil is, and destroy it. It’s entirely too close to the heart of Arcadia. You have proven yourself. You have friends in the village. Do you think you could recruit a force of tweens and men who would attack the school, and give you an opportunity to find the Evil that is there, and to seize it for the Temple to destroy?”

Alten began stuffing his pipe while waiting for James’ answer.

James, who hugely admired Alten, had adopted the man’s way of thinking out loud. After a pause, he began. “The boy’s grandfather…he’s a sailor, a swordsman. He and his son, the publican, are known and respected. There are three families with dead sons. The people fear the school more than they fear for their sons; else, they would have acted sooner. I think…I think that all they lack is leadership and authority. Your request…you intend that to be the authority.” It was a statement, and not a question, but James looked to Alten, who merely nodded.

James continued, “The grandfather will provide the leadership. I don’t believe he was a common sailor. I think he was an officer, even a captain. He has a bearing, a mien…” Again James paused. Alten waited patiently.

“Yes, Senior. I can, and I will.”

James and Acclaudius, each equipped by Alten with an extra horse, made swift time from Arcadia to Cross Creek, arriving in the early evening after only two days of travel. The weather, which had been clear and cold, was threatening as they arrived, and snow began to fall as they led their horses from the gate to the stable.

Joey was in the stable. At first, he didn’t recognize his brother and James, bundled as they were against the cold, but after seeing the distinctive blaze on Horse’s forehead, he ran to James and jumped into the boy’s arms, wrapping his legs around James waist and burying his face in the fur of the hood that surrounded James’ face.

“Oh, James, I’m so glad you’re back!” the boy gasped.

“Hey, little brother,” Acclaudius said, “Does he get all your kisses?”

Acclaudius stepped beside James, and Joey wrapped his right arm around his brother’s shoulder, pulling him into a three-way embrace.

The common room of the inn was empty. There were no travelers, save James. The townspeople were hunkered down in their own homes as the wind whipped snow into a blizzard. When he learned of James’ and Acclaudius’ return, Ancel broke his own rule, and came to the inn, knowing that he’d likely become snowbound and have to stay the night. Thanuel settled everyone in the kitchen for dinner. Joey sat between James and Acclaudius, trying to give each boy all of his attention.

After the boys were fed, and the older two had declined the mulled wine they were offered, opting to join Joey with hot cider, everyone gathered in front of the fire to hear what James and Acclaudius had to report.

“The clerics were wonderful healers,” Acclaudius reported. “I won’t even have a scar. They were very good to me…even though that short one…” he looked to James who said, “Senshen.”

“…even though Senshen all but called me a liar when I said I could see black smoke where there was no fire. I’m still not sure that that means.” Again he looked at James.

“My Senior, Alten—the one who sent me to Cross Creek—believes that what Acclaudius saw was the effect of an Evil magical item that is located in the school. Acclaudius saw it because he has an innate magical ability. Alten is concerned that this evil has taken over the men who run the school, and that it will take over the school and then this village if it isn’t stopped.”

James paused while the others absorbed three surprises: first, that James was an agent for Alten, whose name was known throughout Arcadia; second, that Acclaudius had a magical talent; and third, that the school was more than a bad place, that it was Evil and that it was endangering their home.

Ancel broke the silence. “There’s more, isn’t there, friend James?”

“There is,” James replied, a little unsure of himself. “My mission is to recruit a force from Cross Creek, attack the school, and retrieve whatever Evil object is there. I…I’m sorry…I should have told you sooner who I was working for…I have brought danger to you…I feel as if I’ve betrayed your trust…”

Ancel strode to where James was sitting and grasped the tween’s left shoulder firmly. “No, James…you’ve not betrayed us. You told us you were of the Light; you told us you were on a mission; and…” the man paused, “…and you saved the life of my grandson. You’ve not betrayed us. We do not kill the bearer of bad news. We salute your courage for coming back, knowing what you must do.”

James reached up and put his hand on top of Ancel’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

After wine and cider were replenished, James continued his narrative. “Alten told me that once, many, many generations ago, a great Evil rose in the south, and that it was destroyed—or, rather, pushed back—in a great war of steel and magic, and at a great cost. Because this war was so long ago many have forgotten, and among those who have read or heard of it, most think it is only legend.

“Alten is concerned, however, that Evil is once again rising in the south, and will attempt to overrun Arcadia if it is not stopped. Cross Creek may be the place to stop it, or at least stop this incursion. He would like to be able to examine whatever Evil magical items we may find; the coins have convinced some, but not all, to the danger. Further, by studying the Evil we may know better how to combat it.”

Ancel stood and paced in front of the fireplace as he spoke. It was apparent that he’d already given this some thought. “I know of 33 tweens who were recruited; three are dead, one sits with us, now.” He looked at his grandson, and smiled.

“There are, then, 29 tweens from the town and surrounding farms. There were three men listed on the deed to the school, and the teamsters who deliver supplies have seen only three. Acclaudius, are these numbers correct?”

The boy replied quickly. “Yes. There were 30 students before you rescued me. They may have killed Ogden–he was my roommate—for failing to stop me from leaving. That’s how they would punish failure. There are three instructors: two men and the one green-skinned man-thing. Sometimes, though, they have visitors. Other men, whose eyes are as dark as theirs. One or two at a time; once three. Never more than that.”

“They’ve been warned,” Ancel continued, “Warned by our night-time raid. But will they expect us to come back?”

The wind whipped the snow into drifts that blocked the streets, and the night passed as Ancel planned their strategy. Acclaudius, still weak from his ordeal, and Joey, who gave up trying to keep his eyes open, slept in the corner of the kitchen in a great pile of blankets.

It was two days before they were ready. They were two very busy days for Joey and Acclaudius. Joey ran through the town delivering messages—invitations to visit Ancel at the River Horse Inn. Acclaudius rode to nearby farms to deliver the same message. Those who received the message were the fathers and brothers of the tweens who had been recruited for the school, people personally known to Ancel.

It was not difficult to convince them to join a force to attack the school, not after Acclaudius told them his story, and the parents of the three dead tweens described their sons’ faces, and James—the first cleric they’d ever seen who wore a sword and chain armor—assured them of the Rightness of the quest.

The morning had not dawned when the gates of the River Horse Inn’s stable yard opened and thirty men and tweens rode out with Ancel at their head and James at his side. Against all James’ advice, Acclaudius rode just behind them. Joey’s father was in the middle of the column, driving a team of four pulling a wagon carrying a section of heavy roof beam that was to have been installed in a new house. It had been outfitted with sturdy rope loops to allow it to be carried horizontally. The eight men who were to operate this makeshift battering ram rode in the wagon. Everyone knew, but no one said, that the wagon would likely become an ambulance—and a hearse. As his family and friend James rode out, Joey bit back tears, as did his aunt into whose care the boy had been given.

The plan was simple. The party would ride past the school, the wagon in the middle of the mounted men. When the wagon was abreast of the school’s gate, Ancel would sound a whistle. The horses would wheel and charge the school; men and tweens with grappling hooks would throw them. The men from the wagon would rush the gate with the battering ram. James marveled at the simplicity of the plan that Ancel had created, and his ability to put it into the minds of these farmers in so little time.

Ancel had wanted James to lay back, to heal those who would almost certainly be injured, but James had demurred. “I’ve got to find that magical what-ever-it-is.” Ancel had reluctantly agreed, but had detailed the two men he believed to be the best swordsmen to shadow James, and to guard him.

The first part of the plan went without a hitch. Just after first light, the column reached the school. Ancel’s whistle sounded, and the horsemen wheeled and charged. One, then another…until seven grappling hooks were in place. Agile tweens began to climb. Below them, men held hunting bows with arrows nocked, each hoping that they’d not have to shoot at their own son.

The next wave of tweens and men began to climb the instant the first seven reached the top of the wall. By this time, the six men with the roof beam were only a few feet from the gate, and running at full tilt. The beam struck the gate with a crunch that broke the lock. The right side of the gate swung open, and the six men drew their swords and ran into the courtyard of the school. James and Ancel were close behind, as were James’ two bodyguards.

James ran toward the building in the northeast corner. That was where Acclaudius had said he’d seen the source of the dark smoke that had been interpreted as the Evil magical device. James did not see, but heard, armed tweens boiling out of the dining hall on the south side of the courtyard; he did not see, but heard, men and tweens calling out the names of their sons and brothers, telling them to lay down their swords; he did not see, but heard, the clash of steel on steel as some of the students rejected these instructions and counterattacked.

James burst into the building and focused until he could see the flaw in the magical field. There…in that room, he thought. James heard, but did not see, the clash of steel behind him as his two bodyguards and Ancel were attacked by two Human men who burst from a door.

James saw the door in front of him open, and an armed and armored human-like figure emerge. James did not need Mage Sight to know the sword that the figure held was Evil. It glowed with a dark purple light visible even to mundane eyes. He saw the creature’s greenish skin, and knew this to be the Man-Lizard he’d wounded not long ago.

James did not slow, but charged, his own sword moving to attack while his poniard was held in defense.

The fight was short. James’ attack was swift and sure, and he drew first blood, striking the Man-Lizard’s left thigh. James’ sword slid down the creature’s cuisse, but slipped into a knee joint. The creature stumbled. James’ poniard deflected the creature’s sword, which clashed against the wall.

After this first exchange, James lost the advantage of his charge, but the creature was unable to move easily. James’ first blow had apparently cut a tendon in its knee. Steel slammed against steel as James and the Lizard exchanged blows. James was quick to take advantage of the creature’s handicap, and swung his sword low from the left, getting it under the Lizard’s breast plate and half-way through the creature’s body before twisting it and pulling it out.

James’ focus on this killing blow was not without cost. The Man-Lizard’s purple-black blade slipped past James’ poniard and stabbed the boy in his shoulder, cutting through the chain mail as if it were cloth. The creature’s strength was gone, however, and the blade penetrated James’ body only a few inches.

That was enough for the sword, which keened as it sucked James’ life force from his body. The sword slipped from the dying Lizard creature’s hand. But the damage had been done. James dropped, cold and unconscious, to the floor.

“We must take him…and that sword…to Arcadia,” Acclaudius insisted. “The wagon, father. I’ll take him…I’ll take an extra team and not stop. Grandpa, please, you must let me…”

“Let you? I would command you were that necessary. I would ride with you, if I could…” Ancel gestured to his bandaged leg. The old sailor had taken a crippling cut in the leg from one of the school’s instructors, both of whom had been killed. Other than that, and a couple of lumps on the heads of tweens who had not initially thrown down their arms, there were no injuries.

“Who will ride with him?” Ancel asked. “Who will make a payment on the debt we owe this Warrior of the Light? And who will lend horses?”

From the volunteers, Ancel selected two men and 12 horses. Gripping his grandson’s hand, Ancel commanded, “Ride with the Light.”

The sun had just passed the zenith when the three from Cross Creek reached the gates of Arcadia. The guards were startled with the haste with which they approach, and stood with pikes planted against the chance that the wagon would not stop. Acclaudius reined in his team inches from the pikes. Without waiting to be challenged he called, “Acclaudius of Cross Creek bearing James, a cleric and servant of the Light. He is injured and must be taken to the Temple without delay.”

The Decurion of the Guard approached the wagon and examined James. Something he saw caused his blood to run cold. “Stand down!” he ordered his men. “My horse!” he called to one. He mounted the horse and spoke to Acclaudius. “Follow me,” he said, spurring his horse to a gallop. His stunned men stood aside as Acclaudius followed.

Kenneth had been holding vigil at the Temple gate, sleeping on the floor of the gatehouse and eating what his friends brought him from the refectory. He’d just finished lunch when he heard an unusual sound: galloping horses on the city streets. He looked from the gatehouse window to see… “Acclaudius!” he called, and ran through the door to meet the tween. “James! Oh. Is he…”

“Alive, but sorely injured,” Acclaudius replied, helping Kenneth into the wagon where James lay. Kenneth did not hesitate, but immediately put his hands on James and began to channel healing power to the tween.

Such a small wound…but he’s weak, almost dead. What…Oh, the boy shuddered as he caught a glimpse of the magical field of the sword, lying in the wagon at James’ feet. Pushing aside the field distortion created by the sword, Kenneth drew power from the strong field that surrounded the Temple, pouring it into James, replacing the energy James had lost to the sword.

Kenneth’s use of such great power so close to the Temple created a noise that was heard by all the Seniors and many of the other clerics. The courtyard was soon awash with boys and men in various style and color of robe. Alten calmly strode through the crowd which opened for him. Senshen pushed his way through from the other side. The two met at the wagon.

“What’s going…” Senshen began to say before he was silenced by a stern gesture from Alten.

“Do not interrupt the boy,” Alten said, his voice pitched for Senshen’s ears alone. “On pain of your life, do not interrupt him.” Senshen paled, but remained silent.