St. Zane's Hall, The Cathedral of One

Elathon.

Kneeling, I donned greaves and bellowed orders with an attitude of humility, sending knights and soldiers racing through the dimly lit hall. My voice, normally clear and resonant, competed with alarm bells tolling from every temple and watch tower on Cathedral Row, including the eighteen blessed bells of the Cathedral of One and its several surrounding chapels and monasteries.

"Send a runner to the Priory and gather in as many of the Temple Guard as the other orders can spare," I commanded, sending Varl dashing into the hallway as rapidly as he had arrived. He nearly tripped over old Colven, who, in his eagerness to report, had entered the room too quickly.

"Report!" I ordered. Men liked a leader who gave them instructions they wanted to carry out.

"There are reports of creatures all over the city, Lieutenant Commander!" Sir Colven gasped, short of breath. "And a group of men in red capes have been sighted marching on the Cathedral.

He had returned from my lieutenants' office, where I had assigned him upon discovering that all three of my lieutenants, the watch captain and all the sergeants who should have been on duty were missing. The dormitory was likewise strangely vacant. It was an evil night.

"And Lord Perinor?" I asked calmly. Men liked a leader who maintained control when circumstances were most dire.

"No sign of him, Lieutenant Commander," Colven said, looking as lost and worried as I felt.

"You checked the bodies in the dungeon?" I asked. "All of them? Yourself?" I had to be sure. It wasn't proper to take The Hand to a war footing without express orders from Lord Perinor, but in the commander's absence, and under the circumstances... "Gulman says that Perinor has been killed."

"There are no bodies in the dungeon, Sir Elathon."

I paused in donning my helm and fixed him with a penetrating look. He flinched and gulped hard. I sometimes had that effect on people. No matter. I will apologize when there is time.

"Sir Magrawt," I called, lowering the closed-faced helm onto my head. It would make me still harder to hear, but there was no more time for delay. "Has anyone taken it upon themselves to clear the dungeon of Lord Perinor's deceased patients since yesterday?"

"As I understand it, Sir Elathon," the Knights' Captain Steward replied, "Lord Perinor himself ordered the bodies carted by wagon to twenty specific points throughout the city. If Gulman may be believed, these bodies are the very hosts being possessed by demons."

I turned with a frown for my prisoner, the guardsman who had kicked our little anthill with his frightening report. His testimony was so troubling I'd ordered him into chains until the veracity of his claims could be made plain.

"It appears likely you have told me the truth, Gulman," I told the soldier reluctantly. I had known it for truth immediately, but that meant Perinor had been playing a devil's game with The Hand for a very long time—a thought that filled me with dread. "But you understand that I am loathe to trust two fugitives from Temple Law, who claim to have killed our own Holy Commander, Lord Perinor."

"I understand, your worship," the soldier said, his chains rattling with frantic nodding. "But with due respect, it was Perinor who ordered Arn and I to take a body to North Wall Street, where it split open and changed into a demon right before our eyes! Those tilwens put the creature down fast as ya blink, and it was they who said the city was in danger. Lord Clasicant seemed in total earnest, if ya don't mind me sayin' so, your worship, considerin' he was dead last night hisself."

"Yes," I said, my voice ringing uncertainly within my helm. "That is another thing that troubles me." I turned to Magrawt. "What exactly did Clasicant claim to be doing when he was seized for his unnatural crimes?"

"I know not, Sir Elathon," Magrawt drawled. His white beard was trimmed hastily short under a style of helm that had not been worn in service for more than fifteen years. His studded mace and kite shield were equally out of date. "Lord Perinor kept the details of his arrest very discreet."

"He was searching for evidence of something called a 'weresaur,' if I recall, Father," Colven supplied. Good old Colven. Despite my years in the Church, I still found it odd being addressed as 'Father' by a man who had seen more than fifty winters himself. Together, he, Magrawt, and I were the only full knights to be found in the hall.

Lord Perinor had sent the bulk of our forces to meet and escort Prior Bessik, of all people. The rest were ordered away on various pretenses while I had done paperwork for days and failed to question him. But what did it all mean?

It means Perinor is a traitor and I am a blasted fool who missed all the signs for years.

"There is no time like the present to atone for the sins of the past," I announced to no one in particular, and lifted my heavy shield. I pointed my weapon—a brightly inlaid iron maul—at the prisoner in a gesture calculated to impress. Most men wielded such weapons two handed.

"Sir Colven, free Master Gulman and take command of the guard. You will follow Magrawt and me to the gate. We may be the only Knights remaining on Church soil, but by God, we will protect its Hallowed Ground."

Magrawt and I were loping forward at a steady pace by the time we reached the Hall doors and did not pause when two reptilian hulks loomed on the lawn before us. The lizards were larger than I'd expected, taller even than myself, and head and shoulders taller than the Steward Captain. My shield came up with a prayer for strength, and its straps creaked as I braced for impact.

I bowled the beast over with my charge and raised my massive iron hammer high to finish it. The maul was worked over with silver inlay for demon hunting, and it gleamed briefly above me in the moonlight before it fell, crushing the lizard's collarbone and left shoulder in one crippling strike. The thing's skin bubbled and burned around the holy weapon.

So, the beasts are truly demonic in nature, I thought. All doubt as to the righteousness of our cause vanished, and I brimmed with a surge of The One's true power.

To my right, Magrawt was surrounded momentarily by a nimbus of blue flame as he uttered a Holy Word. His opponent flew away, head over tail, like an insect smacked from the air and across the lawn. The old warrior-priest's beard wagged proudly before he raised his mace and charged after the fallen demon.

My foe fought to rise on its good arm, but it was clearly finished. With a swift heave I finished the job, caving in its mutilated, scaly head.

"Suffer not a demon to live," I quoted, with reverence.

Varl's spearmen, led by Colven, fell in and formed a phalanx centered on me as I started forward again. I rushed to cover Sir Magrawt as he caught up with the demon he had smitten.

It wasn't down for long. The demon rolled upright very quickly and was ready when Magrawt arrived. Its speed took the old knight by surprise; before he could plant his feet, the lizard lashed out with its claws and seized the knight's shield arm in its long fangs.

"Agghhh!" Sir Magrawt groaned. As his opponent locked jaws on his arm, he beat at it with futile strokes. The mace was inlaid like mine, and every strike hissed in charring flesh, but he didn't have the leverage to deal a heavy blow.

"Take heart, brother!" I cried, forgetting our relative ranks in the moment. I was still too far to save him as the lizard began to shake the old knight like a hound with a rat. In desperation, I called upon The One for deliverance.

"Light of One blast you!" I cried, making the sign of the Hand of One with my left hand and thrusting it, palm forward, at the demon. Holy power flooded through me and streamed in a thick rope of blue fire across the intervening distance. It struck the demon mightily, flinging it to the turf, howling in pain.

Magrawt fell to the ground groaning, unable to stand now that the lizard had released him. His arm was bleeding profusely from a series of wicked gashes torn open by the demon's teeth.

"Colven!" I called, and the knight joined me at our comrade's side. The soldiers formed a protective ring of spears around us. "Heal Magrawt and see to his safety. I will finish the demon." The old knight nodded, immediately working to uncover the wounds and summon healing radiance.

I stood grimly, and the ring of spears parted between myself and the demon spawn. It crouched, waiting.

"Knight of The Hand," it hissed, fixing me with glowing, red eyes. "Your commander did this to me. The Church of One in Dollif is blighted. Your Cathedral shall fall to the Brotherhood this very night."

Its spell drifted over me like a hooked net, seeking to catch its barbs in my exposed, anxious fears. I shrugged off the enchantment.

"Your sorcery has no power over the One True God, demon," I said, raising my maul. "If you can communicate with your kin, let them know now that the only thing falling tonight is this hammer. As many times as it takes."

The demon screamed in fury, inhuman vocal chords vibrating as it lunged. It was fast. If I hadn't expected the creature of darkness to do just that, I never would have matched its speed.

As it happened, its face met the top of my maul halfway between us. I hefted the gory hammer twice more before the reptilian thing ceased its twitching.

"You act beyond your station, Lieutenant Commander," a sinister voice said from the darkness. "Where, I wonder, is your master?"

I spun to discover that a score or more citizens in bright red capes had advanced on us while I confronted the demon. They held swords and hunting knives. A few in sight had bows.

"You trespass on Cathedral grounds, citizens," I said. "Go back to your homes. There is much evil afoot in the city this evening."

"Only the evils of a milksop monarchy, ripe for any passing nation to pluck," an unkempt man in torn finery said. His voice was choked by humorless amusement; it seemed he was their leader.

"You speak treason, sirrah," I warned. "Many in this city would see you hanged for less."

"But not you, Lynithes Elathon," the man smirked, stepping forward slightly. The short sword he held at his side seemed an adornment, rather than a weapon. Something about his stance said he himself was the weapon. "You always were too good for the holy knights. Where is Lord Perinor?"

"I serve the Church of One, not the Crown," I said dismissively. "Who are you, and why do you seek Perinor?"

"My name is Oltven Harina," the man said. His mouth twisted oddly, as if the only smile he knew was a cruel one. "I represent the new, Scarlet, faction in this city. I seek Perinor because he leads our cause."

"Word is that Perinor died a traitor's death early this evening," I sighed, losing hope that the armed band before me could be directed away from the Cathedral. "Your cause is leaderless. Go home."

"Dead?" the man asked, given pause for the first time. "I hope not; Lord Perinor would have been proud to see how effectively he has channeled my gifted. Already tonight, we have eliminated two of Roggarth's barracks and stormed the Guild Meeting Hall. But, if Sethos wills it, then it will be so. I will be honored to assume command of the Dollif Court of Mirrors, once the Cathedral of One has fallen."

"That," I breathed, "will. Never. Happen." My teeth ground loudly as I seethed over Harina's invocation of the pagan deity of reptiles and evil magic. On Church soil.

"Kill them!" Harina shouted, and arrows flew from the shadows. One glanced from my helm, another from my mailed right shoulder. I grunted off the impact and charged.

The Hand's spearmen flowed in behind me and were met by swords and more arrows. Several fell. From somewhere, mage fire bloomed and I heard screams. I only had eyes for Harina.

He dodged my first strike, leaping back as the heavy iron head whistled through the air. A snakelike lash with his shortsword would have opened my arm if not for my bracers and enchanted mail sleeve. Before I could pull my maul into a return swing, he was out of range again, moving almost like a demon himself.

"You are well protected, knight," Harina sneered. "I'm surprised Perinor let you keep such toys." I caught two more blows of his sword on my shield before he danced away again.

"What is a Court of Mirrors, Harina?" I asked, looking for a way to trap him within the reach of my heavy weapon.

"It is of no consequence to you," he hissed, "but one day every king will kneel to the Moralist of his local Court of Mirrors, and through them give obeisance to the Scarlet Penumperor itself!"

Evil nonsense.

"This Scarlet Penumperor is some figurehead for demonic forces, I assume?" I said, jabbing my maul forward experimentally. I had never heard of the organization, but I knew there were forces of evil at work in the world that sought to undo the good work of The Church. He dodged my clumsy thrusts easily.

"The Scarlet Penumperor rules the Scarlet Brotherhood," Harina said reverently. "And the world, in truth. Soon he and his Mysteriats will emerge from the shadows, rather than use pathetic puppets like—"

"Like you and your cronies," I finished for him. "Your order is a sham, Harina. The One would never allow a devil's-consort of an emperor to rule the entire world. Governments are fallible. Men are fallible. Men who put their trust in evil and who seek power through chaos and terror even more so."

I connected, lightly swatting Harina's left leg with the very tip of the maul, but even so, he spun like a top and fell to the ground. I wondered if I had broken it. He grinned up at me like a madman, but I ignored the leer. He was clearly deranged. How so many people chose to follow madmen was beyond me.

"Yield and I will take you into custody," I said with a sigh. "I have no wish to do you further violence."

"Hahahahaha!" Harina cackled. He slowly drew his leg in at his side, keeping his eyes on mine. "You always said he was a near-sighted one. My gift to you, Elementus."

I frowned at him, halfway between pity and contempt.

"Who are you—ukk?"

Blinding pain stabbed through my chest and erupted in four hands of narrow steel that pierced the enchanted mail just under my breastbone.

"I can't tell you," the traitor, Perinor, hissed below my left ear. "How long I've been wanting to do this."

My maul was suddenly too heavy and fell from my senseless fingers to half bury itself in the soft grass.

"Haaghh?" I gasped, the motion causing more pain as metal slid around inside my lung. My life's blood welled from the wound, cascading in sheets down my stomach inside my armor.

Where are my men? Sir Colven? Sir Magrawt?

Perinor withdrew the sword and gouts of new blood burst from my wounds as I fell to my knees, arms outstretched.

"You have done well, Master Oltven," Perinor said, stepping around me. "Your Court of Mirrors has lain open The Church like a fish, and with Bessik and his order far to the South, and no Bishop currently in office, only Roggarth's wandeers stand to oppose us."

"Yes, master," the dirty man said. "Your plan to turn all the gifted at once was a master stroke. I also have three among my men here, as well as two Scarlet Sorcerers."

"Good—it is not the only plan in motion this evening," Perinor said, "so I will leave you and your coven to empty the Cathedral grounds. I go to do the same at the palace."

"Very good, my lord."

My eyes rolled, trying to find my men, but I saw only bodies. Sir Magrawt's crumpled form was in an unnaturally twisted heap near where he had been healed. Of Colven there was no sign.

I murmured a quiet prayer, my cold fingers questing through the grass for my maul's handle. It is up to me ... to stop them ... to save the Cathedral. Somehow, the sound drew Perinor's attention.

He looked down at me with cool distain, for all appearances the commander of The One's holy knights, but utterly devoid of true righteousness. I clenched my teeth. Felt the Power of One surging into me. Felt my wounds closing over a body less encumbered by life blood. Blue light surrounded me.

"Remember this, Moralist," the commander said, his deep, clipped words cutting through my consciousness sharper than the blade that had pierced me. It was a voice I had to remind myself was no longer trustworthy, even as it took on the teaching tones to which I'd so often clung.

He stabbed me again, the evil blade piercing my infallible mail a second time.

"Thus will every battle between good and evil be fought and won. Not through glorious war, the pressing of masses into armies forged by rhetoric and idealism, but rather through surgical strikes by those faithful who know better how to change the world."

I fell over, and the world was covered in shadow.