“Be careful,” she said, lying back down. “If I’m not up, please wake me for breakfast when you get back.”
“I will.” Lorit quietly shut the door and headed down the deserted street towards the temple. As he walked, he pulled his shields tight to him and closed the access that he instinctively held open for his friends.
By the time he reached the temple, there was a steady stream of foot traffic headed the same way. Lorit found a likely family to tag along behind. As he fell in line, he projected the image of an older man dressed in a silky robe who walked with a slight limp. That should keep anyone from recalling that a young man had entered the temple.
He filed along slowly behind the family and was soon inside the Temple. During the service, he took the opportunity to slip quietly out of the main area and go exploring.
He found a dark corner where no one would see him and changed his appearance to that of a layman. That image should allow him access to areas where supplicants are normally barred.
He headed down a passageway much like those in the temples he’d visited before. He arrived at a door made of weathered wood bound in brass, with tarnished fittings. As his hand touched the surface, he could feel a light sense of power from within. It was the same power he’d sensed as he fought the priest in the park.
He reached out with his magic and probed the lock. It came open easily, and he stepped inside. In the corner was a stand bearing a statue of a skeleton dressed in priestly robes. Scattered around the room where several dried white human skulls. Stands of dark, polished wood supported brass bowls filled with burning oil that illuminated the room.
On the floor was a pile of tattered blankets and discarded coats. Lorit noticed the pile moving ever so slightly. He walked over and leaned down to examine the pile only to find a young boy, hiding underneath the mass of cloth. He was dirty and had a vacant, frightened look in his eye.
“Please don't hurt me!” he begged.
Lorit reached out his hand to soothe the boy, who flinched and pulled back.
“I’ve read my lessons and practiced as you asked,” he cried, holding his hands before his face.
“My name is Lorit,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The boy slowly uncovered his face and looked up at Lorit. “Why are you here?”
“I came to see if there was anyone in need of help. It looks like I found someone,” Lorit said. He lifted the blanket from the boy's arms to reveal red welts that circled his wrist.
“They haven’t treated you well, have they?”
“They beat me when I fail to learn,” he said. “It’s hard, learning magic.”
“What’s your name?” Lorit asked.
“Kaler.”
Lorit looked at the boy who reminded him of Chedel and Ardser. He was young, frightened, and just starting to come into his powers. The temple must have chosen him for the priesthood, or else they were encouraging him to grow in his power, to provide an even stronger sacrifice.
“Let's get you out of here,” Lorit said.
He reached once more for the boy, who pulled back again.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lorit said in exasperation.
The boy stood and faced Lorit. “They guard this place. We’ll never get out.”
“I have some magic myself,” Lorit said. “Follow me.” He motioned for the boy to follow him as he headed for the door. When he turned his back on the boy, he could feel the stirrings of magic pressing against him. He instinctively hardened his shields to fend off the attack and turned back to the boy.
Kaler stood amid the pile of blankets and clothes with his arm extended towards Lorit. Lorit could feel the power flowing from the boy; it felt similar to the binding spells the priests used on him before.
It was weak and ineffective.
“What are you trying to do?” he asked Kaler.
“Stay where you are,” Kaler shouted. “You’re a traitor.”
The boy raised his other arm to strengthen the spell. Lorit could feel the renewed sense of purpose in the magical attack.
“I’m here to help you,” Lorit said. “Not hurt you. I want to help you escape.”
“I don't need help. I’m just fine here. I’m going to be the high priest someday. You’re a traitor.”
Lorit could sense a second magical presence rising. It was coming from behind him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the priest from the park the day before standing in the doorway. He was holding a staff in one hand and casually leaning against the door frame.
“I knew you couldn’t resist a poor helpless boy,” he said, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him.
Lorit turned to face the priest. As he did, the boy renewed his magical attack. Lorit absently reached out behind him and cast a spell covering the boy with the intertwined ropes he’d experienced in the binding spell of the priests. The attack subsided, and he heard a gentle thud as the boy fell to the floor.
“Well, you’ve learned a few things along the way,” the priest said. He casually waved his hand at the boy lying prone on the rags. “He doesn't matter anymore, his purpose has been fulfilled.”
The priest looked Lorit in the eye, “Don't you want to know the name of the man who’s going to kill you?”
“Not particularly,” Lorit said. “You priests are all the same.”
“Don't you want to know the name that your sister and your mother used, when they begged me to spare their lives?” he asked sarcastically. “You’ll need it for the same purpose, when I end your life. When you beg for mercy, remember, my name is Vorathorm.”
The priest raised his hand to Lorit, pressing the same confinement spell on him that Lorit had just used on the boy.
Lorit raised his shields, and he fended it off easily.
“What did you have to do with my sister's death?” Lorit demanded. He raised power, formed it into a ball of sparking flames and hurled it towards Vorathorm.
The priest easily deflected it. It splashed onto the door behind him, leaving a scorch mark on the weathered wood.
“We noticed your life thread was connected to someone. We followed that back to find a young girl who was already beginning to show hints of power. You were drawing from her without even knowing it,” he said laughing.
“What did you do?” demanded Lorit. He raised another fireball and hurled it at the priest.
“Let's save that for later. When I have you on my table, I’ll describe it in great detail,” he said, raising his hand. A ball of sparks formed, glowing a bright purple. It rotated faster and faster, drawing tighter and growing brighter.
“Your mother, too. Although she was just a convenient diversion,” he said, and hurled the sparking ball at Lorit.
Lorit could feel the heat of it, as it shattered on his shields. He couldn't stand much more of this direct attack. He reached out to tap into Chihon's power. This time he sent a reassuring message back to her.
Strengthened by her power, Lorit once again carefully opened a hole in the priest's shields. He reached inside to feel the seething purple power surrounding the man. He probed for a weakness, trying to find an advantage that would allow him to overcome the priest without drawing his power into himself.
Another fireball washed over Lorit, touching his arm as it passed. The pain seared as if he’d placed it over the open campfire and held it there.
He kept probing until he could sense the priest's own life force.
He reached for it, wrapping his power around it.
He pulled.
He felt the searing pain of another fireball strike him again. This time his shoulder screamed in pain, causing him to drop his shields in the distraction. He cringed in fear of the fireball that was certainly on its way as he grasped the injured shoulder.
When nothing came, Lorit looked back at the priest. He was lying on the floor, near the door. His chest heaved up and down in rhythm with a loud snorting sound that reminded Lorit of a swine.
Lorit wanted to end the battle with the priest, but he was utterly drained. His only source of power came from Chihon. It was barely enough to maintain the binding spell on the boy.
Lorit crawled over to the priest and took his staff. He used his uninjured hand to grasp it and lever himself into a standing position. His arm and shoulder cried out in pain. He almost passed out from the agony. He had to struggle, just to remain conscious.
He hobbled over to the door and pulled. It came freely open. If it had been locked, Lorit didn't think he had enough power to open it with magic.
He stood in the doorway, considering his next move. He'd need more information, to make a proper assault on the temple. He looked at the boy lying on the bundle of coats and blankets. He reached out and, drawing heavily on Chihon, he released the binding enough to allow the boy to wake and stand.
“Bring me a coat, boy,” he commanded. “We’re getting out of here.”
He could feel Kaler resisting, but he complied. Lorit donned a worn out coat that would cover the burns on his arm and shoulder. As the rough cloth passed over the raw wounds, the pain rose up, threatening to overcome him again.
He rested against the staff and waited for it to pass. Finally, able to stand straight, he motioned to Kaler. Follow me and don't make a sound or signal anyone,” he commanded. He reinforced it with a weak burst of power.
Lorit worried that he might pass out or be entirely drained, before they could get back to the inn. He hobbled down t hallway searching for the door that should take him to the alley behind the temple. He wanted to avoid the main room and any other priests or lay persons he might encounter.
They reached the door and pushed it open. As Lorit stepped into the early morning sun, his face flared in pain. He lifted his hand to shield it from the burning sunlight and hobbled off to find the inn. He hoped Rotiaqua or Chihon could do something to help soothe his burns.
Occasionally, he looked over his shoulder, to see Kaler following close behind him.
As Lorit reached for the door, it swung open. Chihon stood before him, looking him over. She looked worried and relieved both at the same time, if that were possible.
“Anywhere it doesn’t hurt?” she asked him.
“Not really,” Lorit answered.
Chihon carefully grabbed his uninjured arm and helped him to the chair. Rotiaqua was seated on the bed, her pack open and waiting.
“How did you know?” Lorit asked the Sorceress.
Rotiaqua inclined her head to Chihon. “She came to get me as soon as she knew you survived. Let's get you out of those rags.”
Chihon pulled out her knife and carefully cut away Lorit’s coat and shirt. She dropped the remnants on the floor as she cut them free. “You won't be wanting these any longer,” she said.
As she pulled the cloth away from the burned area on his arm and shoulder, Lorit could smell the faint smell of his own charred flesh. It made his stomach turn. He gagged, barely able to hold it in.
“I’m almost done,” Chihon said. “Just a little more.” She finished cutting away his clothes and gathered the remnants up into a pile, which she shoved towards the fireplace.
Chihon returned with a bucket of water that had been warming over the fire. She set it on the table and dipped a clean white rag into it. She gently patted the skin on his injured shoulder and arm.
Lorit winced in pain at every touch.
“Does it hurt that much?” Chihon asked.
“Like the fire was still there,” Lorit said.
“I can put you to sleep for this part,” Rotiaqua said. “That is, if you want me to.”
“No. I need to tell you what happened.”
“We can see what happened,” Chihon said. She held the cloth up in her hand to show him the blood dripping into the bucket.
“I got into the temple and found Kaler over there. I thought he was a captive, but he tried to cast a spell on me, so I bound him. Just then the priest from the park came in,” Lorit explained.
“It was Vorathorm,” he added.
“The high priest?” Chihon asked. She had resumed her gentle dabbing of the raw, red skin on his shoulder.
“Yes,” Lorit said. “He gloated about killing Onolt! He said he was going to describe it in detail, once he had me on his table.” He winced as Chihon continued her dabbing.
“What did you do?” Rotiaqua said. She sat on the bed, watching Kaler as he stood silently in the corner.
“He threw fireballs at me, just like before. I pierced his shield and went looking for a weakness. I found a thread that connected him to the temple; it was a different color from the power that he carries around him, so I touched it.
“He hit me with another fireball right about then, and I collapsed. When I woke up he was sleeping soundly on the floor, so I grabbed Kaler and ran,” Lorit explained.
Chihon placed her hand on Lorit's back and said, “Calm down. It's over now.”
“What do you mean, it's over now?”
“Do you mean to continue this?” Chihon asked. She pulled back, looking at him questioningly. “We can't defeat them, they‘re too strong. We've seen that twice already.”
“I will defeat him,” Lorit said. “He killed my sister and my mother.” Lorit looked at Rotiaqua. “We have to find a way to defeat him. If not, he’s just going to keep on killing.”
“You have tested him twice, and found him your superior. What will the next contest bring?” the Sorceress asked.
“I don't know, that’s why I brought him,” Lorit indicated Kaler. “He was not captured by them, he was one of them.”
“What do you plan to do?” Rotiaqua asked.
“I plan to get answers,” Lorit said. He pushed aside Chihon's ministrations and turned to Kaler.
“Sit down, boy,” he said.
Kaler folded his legs beneath him and sank to the floor.
Lorit struggled to lower himself to sit on the bedroll in front of Kaler. He looked the boy over carefully for any signs of danger or a trap. If the priest had used him as bait, he would have no problem using him as a weapon too.
Finding nothing, Lorit loosened the bonds that held the boy. He released him just enough to permit him to speak.
“Why did you attack me?” Lorit asked him.
“You’re a traitor,” Kaler spat at him.
“What do you know of the temple and their plans? Why are they after me? Why did they kill my sister?” he demanded.