Lazarius and a little bird arrived in the bare room along with a statue that was the spitting image of Marius. A moment later, Marcus appeared next to the Wizard and got a better look at the chamber they found themselves in. It was devoid of physical furniture and there was a single exit door. But the walls were covered in patterns that were simple, but unusual. And each wall bore a different pattern.
“They’re tessellations,” explained Lazarius to the obviously dumbfounded Marcus. “Patterns of the same shape repeated and fit together. They help to make this room distinctive but easy to fix in your mind when you wish to teleport back to the College. All the Journeymen are made to study it and must be able to draw the shapes from memory before they are allowed to graduate and serve in the Legions. Though few of us actually gain the power needed to Teleport.” A smile came to Lazarius’ face as he spoke that last sentence. It now fully dawned upon him that he had achieved an understanding of magic that was seldom attained by most graduates of the College. He was now a peer with the Wizards who had taught him.
He went and banged loudly upon the locked door to the chamber. A few moments later, a voice hailed them in a language unknown to Marcus but one that he’d heard Lazarius use in doing his magic. Lazarius answered in similar sounding words and the rattle of keys and the sound of heavy, metal bars being lifted preceded the door opening. There stood a burly man in the livery of Legion XXX, the special guard assigned to the Imperial College of Wizardry. He greeted Lazarius and bade them to exit.
“Actually, could you fetch a few of your fellow guardsmen and help me with this statue? We must be very careful with it. And send someone to ask for an audience with Chancellor Felix. Tell her that Lazarius Rameous has returned. Tell her how I got here and that I need her help.” The guard hurried off to carry out the Wizard’s orders without delay. Lazarius no longer wore any rank associated with his time in the Legions, but nobody exited this room that was not of importance.
Marcus turned to Lazarius, “I really must get going. I need to seek an audience with the High Priest as soon as possible. I can check back here later to make sure that Marius has been…restored. If it becomes a problem then perhaps our Order has the magic to assist him.”
Lazarius smiled, “I assure you that the Chancellors will be able to return him to flesh. But you can find me here when you are done at the Church.” With that the Imperial War Wizard escorted the Warrior-Priest of St. Cuthbert up the hallway until they found another guard to escort him from the bowels of the College and out into the city.
Marcus found his feet upon the streets of the largest city in the world once again. He had awakened this morning in the northern reaches of the Blackpeaks, the morning before that in Hell and the morning before that in Oar. He shook his head and wondered at the amazing events that he was caught up in. He strode toward the Capital and soon the steeple of the enormous Church of St. Cuthbert hove into view.
He entered and spoke to the priest on duty in the main sanctuary, “I need to request an audience with the High Priest.”
The priest regarded him, immediately recognizing the signs that this was more than a worshipper and his battered armor told of deeds martial done in the name of his god. “I’m afraid that High Priest Novanus is very busy right now but I shall pass your name along to his seneschal.”
“I am Marcus Valerias Vitalis and I come with news of an urgent and grave nature.”
The sound of his name brought a look of shock to the face of the priest. “Yes…yes, I’m sure he’ll see you at once. Wait RIGHT here!” He hurried away, looking back several times to make sure that Marcus was not leaving.
Only a couple minutes passed before the priest returned accompanied by a Herald of the High Priest. It was the Herald who spoke to Marcus, “You are Marcus Vitalis? Who hails from the Monastery of Oar and has recently traveled the Northlands?”
“The same.”
“The High Priest will want to see you very soon. Please follow me.” He escorted Marcus deeper within the halls of the Church and finally to a finely appointed antechamber. Twin, carved, oak doors guarded passage into the hall where High Priest Quadratus Saturius Novanus held court. “I shall inform the High Priest that you are here. Do you require refreshment while you wait?”
Marcus did not need food at all and the prospect of having an audience with the High Priest, especially about such dire matters, did not make his stomach an inviting place for it. “Thank you but no.” The Herald passed beyond the two large doors.
Though it seemed far longer, perhaps half an hour passed before the doors opened once again. But it was not the Herald who emerged. “Greetings, Brother Marcus.” The voice that uttered his name seemed filled with trepidation.
“Greetings to you, Brother Lucius. How fare things among the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert?”
Capito frowned, “I believe we both know that there are dark times ahead. But by the grace of St. Cuthbert, we shall prevail!” His face mustered just a bit less confidence than did his voice. After a moment he continued, “Tell me, Brother, do you still travel with the Druid known as Speaks With Stone?”
It was Lucius Capito who had warned Marcus before about the Inquisition that had taken place in Glynden involving Speaks and some of his previous companions. He tried not to allow any defensiveness to creep into his answer, “I do.”
“Well when you see him, tell him that I spoke on his behalf before the Senate. I believe that I’ve earned the ire of the Druid Council for doing so, but my investigations revealed none of the treachery that they accuse him of. He is his own man, but not a bad one.” As Capito finished speaking, the door opened and the Herald bade Marcus to enter.
“I’m afraid I must go no, Brother,” he apologized to the Inquisitor.
Capito reached for his hand in farewell and gripped it tightly, almost desperately. “May the grace of our Lord be with you, Brother.” The Inquisitor turned to leave and as he did, Marcus saw the mace, traditional weapon of their Order, swinging from his belt.
It shone like the brightest silver.
Marcus entered his audience with the High Priest to find a man sitting on a troubled throne. He was still hale and hearty for a man of his age, nearing sixty years. But he looked as though he had not slept well and had much on his mind. Marcus prepared to do his duty and add to that burden. He knelt.
“Rise, Brother Marcus. Tell me how it is you have come here on this momentous day when I was told that you were still in the Northlands. You must have spent little time there to have made it all the way back to Emor.”
“I was brought here by the magic of one of my companions,” responded Marcus.
“Magic of your companion? Was it this ‘Speaks With Stones’ fellow I’ve heard so much about?”
“No, my lord. He has remained in the Northlands. I came with Lazarius Rameous, an Imperial War Wizard. He has mastered the art of travel and can pass from one place to the next in the blink of an eye. It is truly amazing to behold. But, if I may, my lord, the means of my arrival is far less important than the reason for my coming.”
“I know why you are here, Brother Marcus. You’ve had a vision.”
Marcus was shocked that this news had somehow preceded him. “Yes. How did you know?”
The High Priest shook his head, “If you had been better schooled in our religious teachings instead of battle, you’d have been shed if this hubris, Brother Marcus. Did you think you were the only one?”
Marcus shook his head, “Brother Capito? He was also given the choice? I saw his mace. He is to be the Destroyer.”
“Yes. He too had a vision, as did I. He was offered the choice, just as you were. I was offered only a Prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” asked Marcus.
“Yes. I must say that I am somewhat baffled at our Lord’s choice in worldly representatives in this time of troubles. Brother Lucius I understand, for his studies of the teaching of St. Cuthbert are extensive and his faith unwavering. Whereas you, Brother Marcus, are barely educated enough in our faith to be appointed Priest to the smallest thorp in the Empire. But it is not my place to second guess the will of our Lord.”
“But it IS my place,” continued the High Priest, “to pass along a warning. She told me that ‘Where two are called to service, only one shall ever see the shores of Celestia”.
Marcus blinked as that settled in. It meant that either he or Capito would fall from grace and not be allowed into the heaven of their god.
The voice of the High Priest pierced the silence of the hall, “I see no reason to keep secret my belief that it is you who will falter in your task, Brother Marcus.”
The pronouncement hit Marcus no lighter than a slap in the face.
“Brother Lucius has always held to the most rigid standards within our Church. Always honing his faith with deeds of bravery and truthseeking. I know you less well, but I’ve been given some insight into this band of adventurers that you have come to associate with. The Damned, The Wild, The Self-Serving and the Amoral. These are not men of the sort that will keep your faith strong as you go forth to battle the foes that beset our faith and our people.”
Marcus throat felt tight as this indictment of his companions rang through the chamber. He voice could not find the strength to come to their defense.
The High Priest continued, “But as I say, it is not for me to doubt that you are an appropriate choice for the task set before you. The will of our Lord is to be done through you and, aside from this eclectic group you call your friends, I have no cause to doubt your faith. I only warn you that the path ahead will be dangerous, both in body and in soul. Tread carefully, young Marcus.”
No longer wishing to contemplate the fate of his soul or those of his companions, Marcus decided to address more worldly matters, “What of the armada of Orcs that descends upon the Empire? Have our forces been mobilized? And why do our men invade the helpless lands of the north when such dire threats are on our doorstep?”
The High Priest held up his hand and Marcus fell silent. “As to your questions, I shall answer the last first. Dartallus hovers on death’s door and Flavius is acting as Emperor until his father dies and he can be confirmed into that office. He announced that he wished for his father to know before he died that the glory of the Empire was to be reborn and the conquests of old, renewed. Thus he has sent two legions across the Crescent Sea to begin the conquest of the last remaining tribes that have so long threatened our settlements there. He knew of their losses against the Orcs from last winter and felt it best to strike while they are weakened.”
“Whether they remain there in light of the threat to the Empire is not for me to say. But I am scheduled to address the Senate this afternoon to make them fully aware of what my vision has revealed. They will mobilize the Legions and decide how they are arrayed against this threat. But our duty is to watch for the signs of the spiritual conflict that will accompany this clash…” The tolling of the church bell interrupted the High Priest.
“I’m afraid that time is short before I must address the Senate. If there is need, we shall speak again, Brother Marcus. For now, go forth and seek your destiny as the hand of our Lord.”
