When the messenger arrived in the holy city of Siddrimar, the seat of the light God Siddrim’s earthly power, with his ill news, he was forced to wait almost a day before the guards could be bothered to admit him. This was good and proper, of course, as he was not a member of the churd had not e at the request of any of the priests. He came bearing only the seal of temporal power and a minor o that. The t of Greshen was not a well-regarded heir river heresies were only tolerated thanks to the generous tithes they’d given to the church.
Few small gods were granted such benign , and only when all evidence showed that they were an unmitigated good for the region’s people. Despite his unlimited power, her Siddrim nor his servants o hunt down every stray spirit. After all, there were more than enough evils to banish in the world.
So, the tired, saddle-sore man was allowed to rest and wait in the perdition courtyard. This was the outermost enclosed area, just ihe main gate. It was a drab, undecorated affair crowded with pes aioners. While he waited, his request to be seen by a member of the Temprs was filtered slowly up the of aween meals and scheduled prayers. That he didn’t even know enough to call them by their proper he Order of Purgative Fme was o his case. Any of the rank-and-file members of the order would have accepted Tempr just as readily, of course. They seemed somewhat attached to the name even if it was officially frowned on in favor of the formal title. However, they would never be the first to hear an unknowion.
Such requests were only ever passed through the priesthood for proper deliberation. The more important they were, the more priests would have to be involved in ensuring that whatever was decided was the right decision for the church. In this matter, the request of a minor noble was deemed too unimportant for the Hierarch of Purgative Fme or even his aids. After all, what need would a try fief have for such a prestigious branch of the Siddrim’s pace? Their elite forces were busy stomping out the brush fires of heresy across the try, as they always were. Whether those came in the form of hedge witches or raucous bards, there were never enough of their cadres to go around. So, the request fell to the high priest of the Regency, who in turn was too busy a it on to the high priest of the Pe. He was too ill to take guests that day, though, so it was sent to his underlings.
Ultimately, after more than a dozen quiet versations and thoughtful reassigs to someone who might be better suited to the task, it was delivered to Verdinen, A priest-didate acolyte. Unlike everyohat ranked higher than him in the peg order, he was eager to please, though. He might not have had the sight or some of the gifts that his fellow priest-didates had. Still, he was eager to work hard and advance, and he was fident that alone would take him pces, even if his divine blessings and healings could use a little more work.
Brother Verdinen found the messenger sitting alone on a stone bench shortly before su iermost courtyard. He’d spent the st few minutes rehearsing a speech about all the reasons why the messenger had to gh proper els and why it would likely be a week before a man in his pce would be allowed to see the Underkirker te a more personal audience. Of course, he secretly hoped that the lord of such a rich ty would have sent his man with a little to spread around and expedite things. Brother Verdinen would have been happy to take his cut ahe man find an audieh an acolyte of the holy fme the day after tomorrow at the test with that sort of iive. After all, he was owed a few favors for all his good works.
But the man didn’t argue gle. He just looked up at the priest with haunted eyes as soon as Brother Verdiarted to make his apologies and said, “Read it, your holiness, I beseech you,” as he pressed a rather rge sealed scroll into Verdinen’s hands.
Typically These requests were about bandits as often as cults. Still, something about the desperation that g to the man in front of him affected him. Rather than delivering the rest of his speech, he checked the goldehat featured a river and for iy and then cracked open the wax.
The scroll erfectly normal velum written in unremarkable ink with a slightly shaky hand. There was nothing evil ical about it, but with every word he read, his mind recoiled in horror as the words and their evil meaning invaded his brain. Even though it rebelled, the priest-didate acolyte forced himself to tinue, and a picture slowly resolved in his mind. Gresham was a region being punished by the gods for their misdeeds with a severe drought and an unseasoorm. Suddenly everyone of any importance had gone missing, and all that had bee behind was a house full of blood, a squalling child, and a hole in the basement.
Brother Verdinen didn’t know what could have done such a thing, and holy, he didn’t want to. He wao admi rites to rien and fort ely women during their times of trouble. He wao advise princes of the realm as a prince of the church. He knew without doubt that there was evil in the world, but he hadn’t joihe church to deal with such things. Those details were best left to the Order of Purgative Fme, the Brotherhood of the Bzing Harrow, or even the Inquisitors, though he’d never mention that st one in public.
Suddenly, despite the almost mortal danger, he couldn’t help but imagine what sort of yawning evil must have welled up from the depths t so many sinners into the darkest hell. His mind jured up something slimy, like a dragon or a serpent, and an involuntary shudder went through him. He was no seer, but he could only take what he’d experienced as a sign regarding the maations of the dark god. Perhaps Harquines or Tallethin were at work here. He couldn’t say, but his superiors would know.
He closed the scroll as soon as he decided what had to be do and brusquely ordered the messenger, “e with me. I will find you a pce to sleep while my superiors deliberate.”
That part was easy enough. The church kept bunks year-round for pilgrims, and the end of summer was hardly pilgrimage season. With so much work to prepare for the harvest, they had more than enough room. Seek an audiehat would be another matter entirely. Usually, Brother Verdinen would have goo great lengths to avoid drawing that kind of attention to himself, but this was a ce where the spotlight could only be him. After all - it was he that had seen the genuine danger ahat had felt the taint radiating from the page. Surely if he could see that, then everyone else would too.
Ultimately, he decided the most expedient route roag the Priest Varquaress. The old man was undoubtedly amenable and much more sensitive than he and began to shake with the first signs of a fit almost as soon as he opehe scroll and closed it immediately after reading only a few lihat was all the ving he needed.
After that, a cve was called for dawn, and it was scheduled for the room of eternal dawn. Its murals of light and life would do woo keep the evil they would be discussing at bay, though it would have to be scrubbed hard by the acolytes afterward just the same.
The message was locked away in a sanctified chest to prevent its taint from spreading. This turned out to be both a brilliant and terrible idea because, in the m, when the priests and high priests had all assembled to examihe dot and decide what o be done, all they found was ashes. Sometime during the night, the holy power of the city had proven too much for the implement of evil, and it had withered before the might of their god.
“That should be all the evidehat we o dispatch a cadre to root out this filth,” Gantrin, a high priest who dealt more with tomes than people, argued. For him, anythiing to writing like this was a miracle from their god directly to him, and he would not budge in interpreting that.
“I remain unvinced,” Armuth answered, making sure the trace an his voice was obvious enough to be unmistakable. As the Hierarch reasserted his dominan the versation. “Tell us priest-didate everything you remember about this cursed missive, and then we shall make our decision.”
Brother Verdinen swallowed hard. He’d been dreading this moment sihey’d found the heap of ashes in pce of the scroll earlier. He’d wao be the ter of attention, but only as the person with the wit to escate this as soon as possible. Now, as the only oo read it, that role was inescapable, and he began to sweat as he stood and bowed before the assembled leaders of the wing of the church militant. He hadn’t po actually speak to his betters, so he’d made no attempt to memorize that damnable scroll, but here he was, suddenly expected to recite it from memory.
“Thank you, ylory,” he said, his mouth dry as he realized he had no idea whether the Hierarch wanted him to exaggerate or downpy the danger for the audieh the pointed way that the man was gring. “I shall give you all every st detail, so you may make the proper judgment.”
Brother Verdinen began to speak, but not a word of it was what he remembered from the scroll. He couldn’t remember a sihing he’d read verbatim, so he just made it up. He started with a simple greeting that was respectful but not respectful enough. He described the eerie se of a pace where det nobles had danced into the night, o be seen again. He mentiohe blood, but si didn’t seem to have the desired impact, he added a few ritually butchered servants to the description for color. If he was going to stand up here speaking in front of so many iial men, he would make sure his words left an impact.
When he was finally done describing the horrors unleashed in Fallravea, he took grim satisfa in the number of men around the table who looked stri. There was only a brief debate after that, and in the end, everyone agreed that a sworn cadre should be sent with all haste to root out this terrible blight. It was going as well as Brother Verdinen could have hoped until the Hierarch said, “of course, you’ll o go with them too, priest-didate.”
“M-me sir… I mean ylory. Why would the Tem… the warriors of The Purgative Fme require the assistance of a lowly acolyte?” Brother Verdinen asked. Normally he was loathe for ao reduce his meager rank, even in passing, but this time it seemed best to make himself as small and unimportant as possible.
“Why, of course - you were the first the danger, so it is only right that you are there to share in the glory,” the Hierarch smiled. “And with your fine words, I think of no oer to dot the brave deeds of our holy warriors.”
Brother Verdinen forced himself to smile and thank the man for his obtuse punishment. Deep ihough, he felt like something had already died.
Author's Note: I'm not sure why this didn't post on Thursday. Mur posting to follow ter this week with chapter 53!
