Knight Templar in Training - 6. Commitment and Commission

The clerics and acolytes chanted and gestured as they snared magic and wove it to their ends while the storm continued to rage. With the approach of dawn, a break in the clouds on the eastern horizon let a ruddy beam of sunlight through to strike the workbench. A miracle, thought Martin; a coincidence, mused Alten. Alten, however, quick to seize the symbolism of the moment, lifted the silver hammer above his head, snaring the lines of magic coming to him from Arne. Arne felt the power from James and Kenneth swell as they concentrated.

Martin’s brief distraction at seeing the sunbeam caused the shield protecting the group from the storm to falter. A bolt of lightning raced down toward the tiny figures on the top of the mountain…

Alten’s hand was already in motion. The silver hammer struck the sword. A blinding flash of light blazed from the point of contact. The light beat back the lightning bolt, saving the party, unaware. As the light from the impact reached the clouds, they vanished. The sun rose on a clear, spring morning to reveal the six figures standing around a flat rock. There was no sign of the sword except a slight black smudge upon the altar. The morning breeze swept even this away.

*****

James and Kenneth faced Alten in his laboratory. Senshen and Martin, as well as Arne, were there as well. Three tendays had passed since the destruction of the sword. Six silver medals attached to silver chains lay on Alten’s altar. “With the help of a Master Smith, these medals were forged from the silver of the hammer used to destroy the sword. There is one for each of us—”

Senshen interrupted, “Martin isn’t to receive one. He allowed himself to become distracted at a critical moment.” The man turned to the boy and looked at him in disgust. “In fact, he’ll be returning to the Master of Acolytes; I have no further use for him.”

“In that case, Senshen, you won’t mind if I give him a medal,” Alten said firmly. “Having now relinquished your responsibility for the boy, he now falls entirely under my fief.”

Senshen stood, mouth agape. Alten hung one of the medals around Martin’s neck. “Remember, boy, that you did waiver, and resolve not to do it again,” he murmured so that only Martin could hear. He then hung medals around the necks of the others. “You are all dismissed. Oh, Senshen, a moment of your time…” James ushered the three acolytes out the door, and shut it behind himself. As he did so, he felt powerful magic seal it. Uh oh, he thought, a showdown with Senshen.

Within hours, James and Kenneth again stood in Alten’s laboratory. They had been summoned from lunch; both were nervous.

“Martin will be safe,” Alten said. “He only disappointed Senshen, and even Senshen cannot truly believe that the boy should not have the medal. He did work the ritual, and his faltering caused no harm.” He turned to Kenneth. “You, on the other hand, have thoroughly pissed off Senshen.”

Kenneth blanched, not only at Alten’s choice of words, but also with the knowledge that he’d made a powerful enemy. “But…” the boy started.

Alten held up his hand. “By no fault of your own. And you will not suffer for it. James, I have a mission for you—one that will take you away from here for a long time. You will need an acolyte. I would consider it a personal favor if you would accept Kenneth for this journey and for whatever may come after it.” The Senior emphasized the last words, and paused while they sank in. Then he continued, “While I hope that we might meet again, and also hope that you might write me of your adventures, I do not expect you to return to this Temple-School for a long, long time.” He turned to the boy, “Kenneth, I can think of no one better to continue your training at this point than James. Will you accept him as your mentor? James, will you accept Kenneth as acolyte?”

The tween and the boy exchanged glances. They had never expected things to turn out this way. The smiles that came over their faces were answer enough, for now. Before they departed, however, oaths would have to be sworn, supplies gathered, and, oh yes, they’d have to be told of their mission.

“Normally, a Sealing would be a very public ceremony, so that all who knew you would know of the bond, and would swear with you to support that bond. However, I do not think that wise, in this case. Senshen has powerful friends, and they would use this as an excuse to foment more ill will among the brotherhood. For that reason…” The Senior paused to look at James and Kenneth. “For that reason, your sealing will be private, witnessed only by myself, the Master of Probationers, Arne, and—as you requested—Martin.”

The sober nods of those he named, the only ones in his private chapel-workshop, were sufficient assurance for him to continue. He had earlier sealed the doors; Arne, knowing his master’s will, had begun to weave magic from the web. At Alten’s nod, Arne began to chant. The Master of Probationers lent his strong baritone to the tween’s clear tenor; Martin’s voice, a fifth below Arne’s, sent a shiver through everyone’s spine. The Senior’s basso profundo rattled the glassware on the laboratory bench on one side of the room. In the center of the circle of clerics, James and Kenneth knelt. As the chant came to an end, the voices stopped in the same order they had entered the chorus, until only Arne’s bell-like tenor held the final note.

The Senior’s staff literally glowed with the magic that had been gathered. Holding it over James and Kenneth, he began the oath.

“Kenneth, Servant of the Light, will you accept James, Servant of the Light, as your mentor; will you obey him in all things; will you be loyal to him in all ways; will you honor him at all times; will you diligently learn from him?”

Kenneth’s husky alto rang through the Chapel-Workshop. “I will.”

Alten continued, “James, Servant of the Light, will you accept Kenneth, Servant of the Light, as your student; will you protect and cherish him; will you teach him freely; will you provide for him; will you be loyal to him in all ways; will you honor him at all times?”

James answered in a tenor voice no less rough with emotion than Kenneth’s, “I will.”

As the last echo of the tween’s voice faded, Alten lowered his staff so that it rested on the shoulders of James and Kenneth. “Consummatum est,” Alten said as the power held in the staff flowed through the two boys, burning their oaths deeply into their minds.

Only Alten, James, and Kenneth remained in Alten’s chapel. Alten retrieved a letter from a cubbyhole. “James, Kenneth, you know of my concern about the resurgence of Evil in the south. What we saw in Cross Creek was but a splinter compared to the forest that is growing. I have received a letter from a cleric in Fortmain, a town several days farther to the south, and hence closer to a likely locus of infestation. Here, read for yourself.”

James took the parchment and read:

Spring in the First Year of Prince Auric, from Caulden, Servant of the Light, to his friend, Alten, Senior of the Temple of Arcadia,

My dear friend and Senior, for I must address you officially in this letter as I grow more and more concerned about the situation in and around Fortmain and seek your guidance and support.

It’s bad enough that the mountains are infested with Brigands, but there are now reports that Lizoids are moving in the swamps and that Trolls have been seen. I am without resources. My acolyte, Mark, and I are the only clerics remaining in Fortmain. The Temple seldom sees worshipers save the old and the infirm. We still do a lot of healing, although more and more people are turning to those who are charlatans at best, and Evil at worst. These self-proclaimed healers are people who have a little Innate Magic and who have learned a few skills, mostly by trial and error. Civil law and order here is so chaotic that they are usually able to bury their errors.

The letter continued in much the same vein.

“James, I could not love you more were you my own son; Kenneth, your father and mother are my friends. If there were any other way, I would not send you into this danger.

“Would you go to my friend in Fortmain, carry a letter to him from me, and write me of what you see and find there?”

“Of course, Senior. We want to seek and serve the Light; we will find and fight Evil. But it’s best to have a starting point, and Fortmain seems to be a good one,” James replied after getting a nod from Kenneth.

“James, you have shown yourself to be able to operate independently of oversight. I trust you to take what actions you see fit in the Service of the Light. Follow your mind.” The Senior’s words were his benediction.