by Matthew Ilseman
in Issue 87, April 2019
Aleron sat in a brothel listening to the Marquis de Calabra fret about the virginity of his betrothed. They sat at table on the ground level that served as a tavern. The girls and their customers talked and laughed. Stairs lead up to the bedrooms on the second floor.
He bit his tongue as the Marquis went on. The Marquis was a corpulent man dressed in the finest silk. He had blue eyes and a black, devilish goatee. He kept looking at on of the girls at another table.
“I will not stand to have that wretch despoil my bride,” he said.
“Of course not,” said Aleron the warrior priest. His face looked like a choir boys not a warrior’s, but his eyes were watchful and distant. A red cloak hung over his body. Underneath was a rough tunic and breeches. It was impossible to see what weapons he was carrying.
“You do not mind going up against a member of the Church,” said the Marquis.
“No,” replied Aleron. “If the Cardinal is going to kidnap your bride he has no right to wear the sacred cloak.”
“You still wear yours,” said the Marquis. “Even though from what I heard, you were kicked out of your Order.”
“That was because of politics and corruption.”
“I also take it you maintain your vows of celibacy?”
“Yes.”
“Good, if you can escort my bride from the convent to my chateau for the wedding, I will pay you well when you arrive.”
“I would prefer you would pay me well now. Half up front,” said Aleron. “Otherwise you would have to find someone else.”
The Marquis sighed. “Very well. I don’t suppose there is anyone else I can trust for the job.”
He placed a bag of gold on the table. Aleron did not bother to count it. He simply hid beneath his cloak.
“Now, that business is done, it’s time for pleasure,” said the Marquis. He got up and walked over to one of the girls. Again Aleron bit his tongue.
Outside, a strange female figure sat on the steps leading up to the brothel. Her skin was as gold as the sun. Her hair red as flame. Her ears were pointed. She was dressed in leather. A bow and quiver lay next to her. Across her lap lay a battle ax. She smoked from a long pipe.
Aleron came out of the brothel. “Sitting there someone might mistake you for an employee.”
“One person did,” replied Krya. “I showed him my ax and he went away.”
Before Aleron could reply, she went on, “You took so long. I was wondering if you weren’t sampling the goods yourself.”
“The Marquis likes to talk.”
“That’s what I heard. Word on the street isn’t very kind to the Marquis. Aside from being a lecher, he is also a gambler. Did you make sure he could pay?”
Aleron threw a sack of gold coins in front of her.
“Good. That’s all we need.”
“Really?” asked Aleron. “Is that all you care about?”
“Without money you don’t eat. Anyway, it’s not any of my business if someone wants to marry that fat slob.”
Krya had fled the Eastern Plains after the destruction of her tribe. She had worked as a sellsword and thief. Life had hardened her. Still, Aleron reflected if she was truly heartless she wouldn’t have saved him when he was dying of thirst in the dessert. He never was sure why she had.
“Well, I’m off to pray for success.”
“You do that.” Krya credited no gods not even those of her own people.
Aleron’s prayers were interrupted when a man tried to kill him. He had been on his knees praying softly when he heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed. He opened his eyes and saw the shadow of a man with a sword hanging over him. He rolled out of the way before the blade sliced down into the wooden altar.
The time it took for his assailant to pull the blade from the wooden altar had been enough him to stand and unsheathe his own sword. The man before him was large and scarred. He swung his sword at Aleron who parried the blow.
“So you have some of skill,” said the scarred man. “No matter. I’ll kill you just the same.”
Aleron parried another stroke. He kicked landing his foot in the man’s groin. The man’s eyes bulged but he did not stop the attack.
“I don’t want to kill you in a church,” said Aleron as he ducked at cut at his head.
“Then put your sword down and I’ll make it quick.”
The scarred man charged in. Aleron likewise closed. There blades met. Aleron caught a slash at his head with a horizontal block. He then smashed the pummel of his sword against the scarred man’s temple.
The scarred man let out a scream and fell. Aleron looked down at the man. Blood ran down his face but he still breathed. The man was unconscious. Aleron kicked away the blade. The scarred man opened his eyes. Aleron put the point of his sword to his throat.
“Did the Cardinal send you?”
The man did not reply. Aleron kicked him in the side. “Answer me!”
“Yes,” replied the man. “I was only supposed to spy on that fat merchant, but I thought I would get in good with his grace by killing you. I did not realize you could fight.”
“My order… that is the order I used to belong to, was a martial one.”
“I see. I should have gone after the slut.”
“Don’t call her a slut. You are lucky you did not attack her. I’m far more merciful than her. I want you to give a message to your master.”
“All right.”
“Tell him that it is shameful for a man of faith to covet a woman.”
The scarred man laughed. “The Cardinal has no faith. His family forced him to join the Church. He does like the position and power, though.”
“I was afraid of that. Tell him anyway and then don’t let me see you again.”
“You should have slain him,” said Krya.
“It was unnecessary,” replied Aleron.
The rain fell on them as they rode the heavily forested road. It was a light drizzle. Their horses’ hooves splashed in puddles. They were surrounded by foliage so thick the light of the sun barely penetrated.
“Are you alright back there?” Aleron asked the third traveler, a slim girl in a purple cloak.
She did not reply. They had picked up the Marquis’s bride, Selen, at the convent. She was a girl of seventeen with golden hair and sky blue eyes. She had said hardly a word at their meeting and had been quiet the whole trip. Not just quiet, but sullen.
This worried Aleron who did not want a part of forcing the girl into an unwanted marriage. Still, she had not objected. He told himself she was just nervous.
He had voiced his worries to Krya. She for her part said that all that mattered was getting paid.
Krya stopped her horse.
“What is it?”
“I hear people up ahead,” Krya said pointing to her ears. “Could be the Cardinal’s men. Damn forest and its trees. On the plains, you can see who is attacking you.”
A rider appeared from beyond the forest bend. He wore a brown cloak over a red tunic with the sigil on it. It was the sign of the Cardinal. He drew his sword and shouted, “They are over here. Draw your blades there are only two of them.”
There was a whistling sound in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Aleron saw an arrow flash by. It struck the Cardinal’s man in the throat. Blood spurted. For a moment, everyone was stunned. They probably had counted on it being to wet to use a bow. Krya had the foresight to treat the bowstring with animal grease.
Before they could recover, Aleron turned his horse around and grabbed the reigns of Selen’s. He said, “We need to get out of here. Back the other way.”
Krya released notched another arrow. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Aleron heard the twang of her string. He kicked his spurs into his horse. It whinnied and burst forth. Selen followed after him. He looked back to see Krya following.
The rain began to fall harder as they rode. Soon, it was no longer a sprinkle but a torrent. Krya rode her horse up to Aleron’s. She shouted, “Do you have any idea where we are going?”
“There’s a deserted chapel around here. If we lose them we can hide there.”
So they rode on through winding trails. Eventually, the hoof patter of the pursuers died. They rode into a clearing.
There stood the Chapel of Skulls. It was a decaying monolith of grey stone. It had two large stained glass windows like eyes and a large door like a mouth. Skulls lined the building. At first they looked like they were carved from stone, but on closer inspection it became obvious that they were real skulls set in the mortar.
“That is hideous,” said Selen.
“I’ve seen worse,” said Krya.
They dismounted and tied their horses to a tree branch. Aleron said, “The skulls are reminder that we all should die one day and to seek salvation while we can. There’s no need to be afraid.”
Even so they hesitantly approached the Chapel. Aleron pushed open the door. The chapel was dusty and great cobwebs hung from the ceiling. There was an altar in the middle for the priests to make sacrifices. Dim light came through stain glass windows on the side of the building. There were no pews. It did not seem like a place of worship, but rather like a tomb.
Aleron walked in. Selen held back until Krya pushed her in.
“This does not look like the most comfortable place to hide,” Krya said.
“We’re not going to hide here, but in the catacomb,” said Aleron.
“That sounds pleasant,” responded Krya.
Aleron ignored the sarcasm. He went up to the altar and brushed off the dust. There was an inscription in an ancient language. Aleron bent over and peered at it.
Krya came up behind him, “Can you read it.”
“Yes,” replied Aleron. “This is apparently were St. Legar is buried.”
“Who?”
“St. Legar was a member of my order. A true fanatic. He rode out to conquer foreign lands for the Church. The inscription is a warning.”
“A warning about what,” asked Krya.
“It says, ‘Now, I sleep. Do not wake me before the day of judgment.’”
Aleron got up and walked over to a statue on the side of the building. It showed a fierce eyed man dressed in chainmail holding a sword. Aleron read the inscription on it. He ran his hand over the wall to the side until he found the right stone. He pressed it. There was a creaking. The altar slid aside. Beneath it were stairs leading into darkness.
After lighting a torch, the three of them went down into the darkness. The steps descended into a room with a pillar. On it lay the bones of St. Legar. His red cloak was tattered. His finger bones gripped a long sword.
“He was a member of your order?” Krya asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to be down here,” said Selen. “You were going to take me to the Marquis. What are you waiting for?”
“Do you not remember how a few hours ago we were being chased? We needed to lay low,” Krya said.
“They will be watching the roadways,” replied Aleron. “We need to time to come up with a plan.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We will get you there safely.”
They went back up the stairs. Aleron went over to the altar. Years ago, the Sacred Fire used to burn day and night. Now, it was dead. Aleron could not help think that it was metaphorical.
“God dwells in the flame,” he muttered. The louder he said, “I’m going to collect wood from the fire.”
“Good it’s cold in here,” replied Krya. “Watch your back.”
Aleron wandered through the woods looking for dry wood until he felt like he was being watched. He looked around. The tree coverage was heavy. Everything was wet from the rains. Shadows hung low covering dark spots. There was a sound like a child laughing.
Aleron gripped his sword. He had learned to trust his instincts. If something felt wrong, he was wary until proven otherwise. There was a sound of something moving in the brush.
There was a whistling sound and something hit him in the back shoulder. He pulled his coat around saw a dart stuck in it. The thick cloak had prevented it from piercing his flesh. He sighed in relief because he assumed it was poisoned.
He scanned the area where the dart had been shot from. It was dark but his eyes made out a short black form standing on a branch. There was again the sound of children laughing.
There was a rustling above his head. A few leaves fell to the ground. Instinctively, he jumped out of the way. A dark, hairy form leapt down at him. It held a club. It swung at Aleron who dodged aside.
Aleron pulled his sword as the creature came at him with the club. It raised its club to attack, but Aleron was faster. He slashed at its hairy belly. Flesh ripped and entrails spilled forth.
Aleron looked down at the corpse of the creature. He was not sure what it was, but he knew there was many near human races. Just as Krya came from one of them, the Shrinya, his attacker was of another one.
There was another whistling sound as a dart flew by him. Aleron jumped behind a tree. There was more of that laughing sound and rustling in the bush. More of the creatures are coming. They dropped down from about surrounding Aleron.
Krya sat on the stone floor sharpening her axe. Selen quietly watched her as she did so. They had not talked since Aleron left.
“I hope he returns soon,” said Selen. “It’s cold in here.”
“He may have trouble finding dry wood,” replied Krya.
“Are you his lover?”
“What? No.”
“Why not?”
“He has his damned vows of chastity.”
“Then why do you travel together.”
Krya put the ax down. “It’s hard to explain. In the steppes to the East, where I come from I found him wounded and dying. He kicked out of his order for opposing some atrocity or another. Since then he had become a sellsword. He had actually been guarding a caravan from Shrinya raiders.”
“What’s a Shrinya?”
“I’m a Shrinya,” replied Krya.
“Oh.”
“I nursed him back to health.”
“Why?”
“I’m not certain. I think I was lonely. I was the last of my tribe. War and plague had wiped us out. Whatever the reason, we have traveled together since.”
As she said this, Aleron stumbled through the door. He was beaten. His crimson cloak was wet with blood.
“Aleron, what happened?” said Krya.
“I was attacked,” he said. “By little brown fury men. I think they are working for the Cardinal.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s not mine. Mostly.”
“Hail, to my enemies,” came a voice from outside.
Standing in front of the Chapel was a man in a black cassock. He was surrounded by tough looking bravos. It was the Cardinal. He was a tall wizened old man with a shaved head. Farther behind in the woods, other shapes could be made out. The small, furry men.
“What do you want?” shouted Aleron.
“Give me the girl and I’ll let you go,” said the Cardinal. “You are sellswords. There is no profit if you die.”
“He has a point,” whispered Krya. “What are we going to do?”
Aleron was quiet for awhile. Then he went to the door and shouted, “I’m sworn by the oaths of my order to protect the innocent. I will not relinquish the girl as long as I live.”
“Well, you are hell-bent on doing a foolish thing as usual,” said Krya. “We are probably going to die here, but oh well…”
She then shouted out the door, “Go to hell. You come through this door and I will split your skull myself.”
“Aleron, I know who you are,” said the Cardinal. “I know you are a traitor to your order. You killed your own brothers. You cannot possibly still believe in those silly teachings. This world belongs to those who have power.”
“My brothers slew innocent people. I was only obeying my vows when I slew them,” replied Aleron.
As they talked, the Cardinal’s men moved cautiously forward. Aleron and Krya stationed themselves on both sides of the door. Krya pulled an arrow from her quiver. She took aim at the Cardinal. She let fly.
The arrow sliced through the air. It nicked the Cardinal. There was a scream. He clasped his left arm.
“Kill them,” he shouted. His men ran forward. Aleron slammed the door shut and barred it. There was the pounding at the door that quickly ceased.
“There going to look for another way in,” Aleron said. Krya nodded. There was a crash. Stained glass flew across the floor. One of the hairy men came through a window. Krya shot an arrow into him. He fell but was quickly followed by the rest.
Aleron unsheathed his sword and engaged the enemy. Krya pulled her axe and followed him. Aleron fought one of the humans armed with a sword. Krya split the skull of one of the hairy men.
There was a crash behind them and then a scream. Aleron skewered his opponent and turned to see the Cardinal grasping Selen. He had come in through another window. He was followed by two of the hairy men.
“Give up or I will kill the girl,” said the Cardinal.
“If you kill the girl you won’t have her either,” said Aleron. “There’s no point.”
“Yes there is,” replied the Cardinal. “If I can’t have her, I can keep anyone else from having her. She spurned me for that fat aristocrat.”
“I don’t want either of you,” Selen cried out. “I hate you both. My family is making me marry the Marquis because of his rank. I did not want any of this to happen. I did not want anybody killed and I don’t want to die.”
As they talked, no one noticed a figure coming out from the staircase. It held a large broadsword and was cloaked in red robes. Its face had no skin and its eye holes were empty. At once, the skull started laughing.
It was soon joined by the skulls that ordained the chapel’s walls. Everyone ceased talking. Several of the Cardinal’s men fled. St. Legar had been awakened.
The undead Priest attacked one of the Cardinals men laughing widely. He swung his sword cutting through armor and flesh and bone. He fell to the ground severed in two at the waist.
“Sinner. False priest,” cried the skeleton. “I come for you.”
The Cardinal let go of the girl. He ordered his men to protect him. Those who were brave enough to stand their ground where swiftly slain. Then the skeleton thrust his sword straight through the Cardinal. The Cardinal looked down in disbelief at the sword sticking out of him. He coughed blood and his eyes rolled back.
While this was going on, Krya had the wherewithal to grab Selen. She, Aleron and the girl fled the chapel.
A week later, Aleron and Krya sat in a tavern.
“So she did not marry the Marquis after all,” said Aleron.
“No,” replied Krya. “She fled back to the convent. I’m not sure, but she may have decided to become a nun.”
“That probably for the best, but it makes what we went through for nothing.”
“No, we were paid. That’s all I care about. What happens after the job is none of my business.”
“Speaking of which, I heard a rumor about the Chapel of Skulls.”
“Yes.”
“You know the sacred fire? It’s been relit. Someone is tending it now.”
“Really.”
“Thing is no one seems to know who is doing the tending. The peasants are still afraid to go near the chapel. No one dares to find out.
“That too is probably for the best,” said Krya.
©April 2019 Matthew Ilseman
Matthew Ilseman was born in Texas and lives in Colorado. This is his first appearance in Swords & Sorcery.