Chapter II

“How long do I have?” asked Ardal.

Doreen shook her head at her friend, her face turned down in sorrow, “The longest I've seen anyone survive is seven months.”

Ardal looked down again at his right hand, where the skin on the back of his thumb had grown tiny, clear crystals that shimmered in the light. It was the first sign that he had caught Gavish, a disease which no medicine could cure. It was rumored to be a curse from the Agalmite God. Only Agalmite priests could cure the disease with their healing magic. “It's true, then...my whole body will turn to stone...and then to sand...and I only have seven months until that happens.”

“Ardal, I'm so sorry!” Doreen's voice wavered as she offered her sympathies.

“Why would I care how sorry you are?” Ardal asked. “You think that makes me feel any better?”

“I...I didn't mean to...”

“Don't tell me how sorry you are! I don't give a schyte how you feel, I'm going to die!” Ardal grabbed Doreen's mortar and pestle and threw it up against the wall. It shattered it into tiny, ceramic pieces. He seethed for a moment, stared at the broken pieces on the floor, but then took a moment to catch his breath and gave Doreen an apologetic look before asking, “Is there truly no cure?”

“There is but one cure...but even seeking that is dangerous and...”

“Swear my allegiance to the Agalmite Church and let their priests heal me? No! Let their evil God turn my body to sand, I don't give a damn! I will NOT bend a knee! When the Queen of Daemons comes in all her glory to destroy this prison world and bring their God to justice I will stand before her and say 'I kept the faith alive, even unto death! I never knelt to the traitorous fool who created this world!'”

Just hearing him rant like this made Doreen nervous, and she watched the door. She half-expected it to burst open and for Duke Jachai's soldiers, or the inquisitors, to rush in and arrest them both. Sixteen years ago Ardal had been a professor at Leti Academy. He trained warlocks, before the academy was destroyed and most of the professors executed. He'd kept a low profile all the years since, teaching students the ways of the Nihilite faith and the art of daemon-conjuring in secret. She worried that if he though he had nothing to lose he'd throw all caution to the wind, openly declare himself a faithful warlock, and end up stoned to death or burned at the stake immediately.

Doreen pressed a finger to her lips as a signal for Ardal to be quiet, and then whispered, “Maybe you could fake a conversion. Tell the priests that you have seen the light so that they’ll heal you.”

“If even a single one of my old students sees me swearing my allegiance to that God they'll all lose heart. No, I cannot do that.” Ardal shook his head and grabbed his coat off the hook on the wall. “Thank you, Doreen. It wasn't good news, but it's better to know these things. Now I just have to decide what to do with the time I have left.” He threw the coat over his shoulders and shook his arms until the sleeves fell down to his wrists.

“Ardal…”

But Ardal ignored her and stormed out the door and into the city streets outside.

Since the Arxians conquered Nihilus the city streets had always been in far better repair, and there was enough food to go around for everyone. Many of the people of Nihilus praised the Arxians and the former queen, Sarahi, for all they’d done for their once poverty-stricken land, and half of those truly meant it. To Ardal it was worse that they should live under Arxian tyranny with food and welfare than it would have been to live under Arxian tyranny in abject poverty and humiliation. If the people felt like slaves they would rebel in much larger numbers than they were now. As it stood the people were content to accept slavery and being forbidden from the one true religion. All because they had food in their bellies, roofs over their heads, coin in their pockets, and wine at their tables. So long as they kept their heads down the inquisitors wouldn't bother them. Did none of them remember that falling in love with the things of the world was sinful? They all lived in their flesh rather than in the spirit, and the only thing that kept Ardal from hating his own people for that was that he hated the Arxians far more.

He caught sight of his own face in the outside window of Doreen's shop. While previously he'd looked in the mirror and thought on how old he felt he'd become now he looked at his reflection and thought on how he looked far too young to be so near death. His goatee only had a few gray hairs in it, and his short-cut hair was only gray at the temples. He was still in relatively good shape too. Sure, not as muscular as he had been in his youth, but he certainly hadn't gotten doughy yet. Other than one little spot on his hand, now covered in a leather glove, and the spectacles on the end of his nose, he looked completely healthy.

As he stood, staring at his reflection and contemplating life and death, he heard the sound of the temple bells. Different pitches indicated different events about to take place, and, at the moment, it sounded like the inquisitors were about to have a “Show of Faith.” A pious way of saying that they were either going to execute or humiliate someone who was discovered to be practicing the Nihilite religion. Every time he saw a Show of Faith it either broke his heart or drove him into a rage, but he knew that anyone who didn't attend was under suspicion, and so he went to see what all the noise was about.

Sister Clove was the head inquisitor in the city, a woman clad in a black cassock and wearing a black, plain headscarf. She was thin, as all members of the Inquisition were, due to their frequent fasts, and had a surprisingly soft and pretty face for one so stone-hearted and cruel. On either side of her stood two Arxian soldiers, with many more soldiers standing in front of the crowd, hands on the hilts of their swords, and two Inquisition witch-hunters, clad in red cassocks, undoubtedly with daggers hidden up their sleeves. Behind her was a man tied to a chair, a burlap sack draped over his head.

“Brethren,” Sister Clove began, her voice high and sweet. “We are gathered here today to see the redemption of one of our own. The man sitting before you was caught crafting blackstar talismans. No doubt he hoped to conjure demons into this world.” Sister Clove pulled the burlap sack off the prisoner's head. In an instant Ardal knew him. That long, curly silver hair, that olive-colored skin, those icy blue eyes, that face so fair it almost looked more like a woman's than a man's, this was Caiaphas, one of the other former professors of Leti Academy. The last Ardal had heard of Caiaphas he'd fled down into the southern lands of Subra and Sabura. Why was he back? And why did he look like he'd not aged a day in the past sixteen years?

The crowd jeered and roared when Caiaphas' face was revealed. Rotten vegetables were thrown at the stage, but not a single one struck him. While the crowd pretended to be as enraged at Caiaphas as the Arxians and inquisitors were, Ardal knew it was all for show. If it wasn't, if the crowd was truly furious with Caiaphas, they'd have struck him many times, he'd be covered in the juices of moldy tomatoes and rotten cucumbers.

“He says that since being captured he has renounced his dark ways,” continued Sister Clove, her voice still as kind and gentle as before. “We forgive him, as the angel Sandalphon calls us to, but we also must take necessary steps to protect others from his sinful ways, in case he relapses.” Sister Clove reached into the pockets of her cassock and produced eight small nails and a hammer. “May the pain you are about to feel remind you of the pain you cause when you do wrong. Look at your scars and remember your suffering here the next time you feel tempted.” Sister Clove lined up the first nail in between the finger-bones of his hand and raised her hammer.

“Damn you!” Caiaphas said and spat at her.

Sister Clove was taken aback at this, truly surprised at his sudden change of mind, “You said you were willing to repent.”

Caiaphas ignored her and shouted out to the crowd, “Hear, oh Nihilus! The daemons have not forsaken you! Our beloved Queen, Deidra, still lives, as does Therion's heir! The time to strike is now! Throw off the shackles of these idolatrous tyrants! Burn down the churches they have built here, desecrating our lands! AAAAAGH!” Caiaphas speech was cut off when Sister Clove brought down the hammer hard and drove the nail through his left hand.

Before even Ardal realized what was happening members of the crowd drew stiletto daggers and pushed them between the Arxian soldiers' ribs. Some drew shaving razors and dragged them across the soldiers' throats. Those soldiers not caught in the initial surprise attack drew their swords and began to cut down members of the crowd. In all the confusion, and since their assailants were dressed just like the other people in the crowd, the Arxian soldiers were simply cutting down every native Nihilite they saw. All of the confusion and sudden violence caused much of the crowd to flee in panic. Some of them even knocked each other down to escape the pandemonium.

Once he realized what was happening, Ardal ran around the rioting crowd and rushed towards the stage, where Sister Clove stood. The two witch-hunters drew their daggers and prepared to stand in Ardal's way. Ardal shouted out, “Kamwi!” and as the witch-hunters stood in confusion over what this stranger was shouting at them, an enormous bear with golden fur appeared before them and knocked them aside with a swipe of its great paws. Ardal's daemon gave out a roar that those nearby could feel in their bellies. Sister Clove dropped the nails and hammer in her hands and fled immediately.

Seeing the daemon bear, the Arxian soldiers turned their attention towards it and away from the rebels in the crowd. They stabbed at it wildly with their blades. To Ardal's surprise, the blades actually cut Kamwi, though admittedly not deep enough to actually hurt him. “The inquisitors must have enchanted their weapons...damn them!” He thought to himself. Typically only diamond weapons could harm daemons, but the inquisitors knew a spell that made weapons made of iron dangerous to daemons, as well as freezing cold to the touch. “Cold Iron,” it was called.

While Kamwi continued to make a mess of the Arxian soldiers, with the help of the rebels, Ardal picked up the hammer from the ground and placed the claw of it just under the head of the nail in Caiaphas' hand. “Brace yourself,” Ardal said before he yanked upwards and pulled the nail out. Caiaphas screamed in pain, louder and more fiercely even than he had when the nail was driven in. Blood began to pour from his hand.

Without giving Caiaphas a moment to recover, Ardal yanked him up to his feet and pushed him towards the stairs of the stage. “Run! Run!” He shouted.

Caiaphas obeyed. He held his hand tightly in a futile attempt to keep the blood in. Ardal took one last look at the fray Kamwi was in before he chased after Caiaphas. He knew that after he got a certain distance away Kamwi would disappear from the fight. Hopefully by then the rebels would have had enough time to either gain the upper hand or flee.

Both Caiaphas and Ardal finally ran out of adrenaline and breath at the river, far outside of the city limits. They fell on the shore, gasped for breath, and smiled that they'd both escaped with their lives, with their eyes turned to the darkening sky above them.

“That...was...a...handy friend...you called on...there,” Caiaphas gasped out.

“My Familiar,” Ardal said, still catching his breath. Familiars were daemons who chose to follow, guide, and protect certain individuals. Not every warlock had a Familiar, but it was said that those who did were destined for greatness, important to some sort of grand, sacred plan.

Once they'd finally caught their breath both of them sat up and Ardal looked through the grass for herbs he could use to help Caiaphas' wound heal faster. Caiaphas held his hand high in an attempt to limit blood loss while he used his other hand to tear off strips of cloth from his sack cloth tunic to be used as bandages.

“Let me see it,” said Ardal. Caiaphas held out his bleeding hand to Ardal, who carefully began to place the healing herbs he'd scrounged up into the wound. Caiaphas winced and groaned. “Stop being a baby.” Truth be told, Ardal was surprised Caiaphas didn't shriek when he touched the wound, but Ardal didn't want to encourage him to make noise since the soldiers were likely looking for them. He believed the best way to overcome pain was to deny it.

Once the herbs were in place Caiaphas wrapped his wound tightly. “Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked.

“We used to teach at Leti Academy together, taught the young people the Gospel.”

“Ah...yes, I think I remember your face,” said Caiaphas. “What did you teach?”

“Herbalism and alchemy. Conjuring on occasion, but those were my specialties.”

“So you taught the students how to brew medicines and such?”

“Aye. Poisons too.”

“I see…I think I remember you…Professor Ardal? So, why did you rush to my rescue? You weren't part of the plan.”

“The plan?”

“I was caught, held captive in a prison cell for weeks, all the while conspiring with my people on the outside to make my escape. We came up with a plan for me to escape during a Show of Faith, one that would allow me to spread the good news as well, but you're not part of the rebellion. Why were you so quick to jump into danger?”

“Is she really alive?”

“What?”

Ardal grabbed Caiaphas by the shoulders and gave him a shake, “Queen Deidra. Is she really alive?”

Some of the color left Caiaphas' face and his eyes widened, “Yes...she's alive.” It wasn't a lie, but Ardal could tell that Caiaphas was hiding something.

“I want to see her,” Ardal said.

“Her Grace is very busy, my friend, she has no time for...”

“I want to see her,” Ardal repeated. “You'll take me to her straight away.” There was no threat in Ardal's voice, just a matter of fact tone. He wasn't ordering Caiaphas to take him to Deidra, it was like he was merely saying “This is going to happen.”

“Aye...then we'd better get moving.”

The two of them traveled through the night, stopping to backtrack every now and then and crossing small bodies of water when they could, just in case they were being tracked. They stayed far away from the main roads, away from any roads, really, in the off chance that they would be spotted and recognized.

“You're not a soldier,” Caiaphas said as they walked.

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“Not a soldier, and yet you rushed into the fight without fear.”

“A man doesn't need to be a soldier to be brave.”

“He usually needs to face danger once or twice before it doesn't phase him. You know as well as I do that the Inquisition's witch-hunters are effective killers, but you ran straight at them, not a hint of fear in your eyes.”

“Faith overcomes fear. I knew Kamwi would protect me and that if he failed to do so Prunikos would care for my soul.”

“Spare me, sir!” Caiaphas said with a laugh. “Don't talk to me like I'm one of your students. I heard what happened after Leti Academy was taken. You and several of the other surviving professors went into hiding, but you got caught. You worked out a deal with your captors, sold out three of the other professors in hiding so you could live.” Caiaphas looked back at Ardal, who gave him the most threatening glare he could muster, a scowl that would terrify even a pack of wolves. Caiaphas shuddered and looked away. “You're not afraid of death anymore. Why is that? Where did a retired academian find such courage?”

“The word you're looking for is 'academic,' and it's not important.” Ardal reached out his hand and grabbed Caiaphas' shoulder, stopping him and turning him around to face him. “And if you EVER mention what I did again I'll kill you.”

“Well that's exactly what I'm worried about,” Caiaphas said, “You sacrificed our own people to save yourself years ago and now you threaten my life. Honestly, you're not exactly someone whom I think I can trust around Queen Deidra. Until I feel I can trust you we'll travel no further.”

“You will take me to see her.”

“I will not.”

“You will.”

“No.”

Ardal shook his head, “Fine! Fine! Here!” He removed the glove from his right hand and showed it to Caiaphas, “You see that? You know what that means? Means I've got Gavish, I've only months to live. That's why death doesn't scare me anymore, death by a witch-hunter's blade is far less terrifying to me than death by turning to sand. You want to know how you can trust me? I'm running out of time to do deeds that the daemons will honor. Sure, I've always been faithful, but if I want to be righteous in Prunikos' eyes, if I want to stand before the Queen of Daemons proud of my life I've got to act fast, and I can think of no better way to achieve that than to help you drive out the damned idolaters.”