The Smell of Fear

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 5 DAY 27

Lucius had never felt so vulnerable. No amount of liquor could steady his shaky hands. When Susie returned with a wanted ghost sealed inside her lamp, he saw the Goddess smiling down at him. He had woken early this morning to find the good fortune a mirage. To make matters worse, there was a letter on his desk that bore the golden ring. It was Aergot Paerawyn.

Many of his templars had died. Cabron reported the remarkable absence of resistance from the famed warrior priests. Again, Lucius looked to his Goddess sculpture. He had cut his hands many times to chisel the smile. Now, that curve was cruel and cutting.

“First it was mama,” he whispered, growing louder. “Then grandpa. Now you!”

In a mad fit of rage, he seized the woodwork but stopped short of throwing it. He took a deep breath and unsealed the letter. As much as he feared the content, he dared not ignore it. The curt command, lacking any diplomatic garnish, wobbled his knees and forced Lucius into a chair.

Bring me the hero.

He passed the main hall on his way to the cellar. The praying congregation was small today, likely due to the rowdy matrons outside demanding Vera’s release. Cabron had insisted that holding her hostage would motivate Dramien to bring Ruxian in. While Lucius had questioned and protested at first, he no longer had that luxury. If the stories of Logram – which never existed – were true, then it was past time he abandoned his principled visage.

Vera sat at her desk, her spine straight as a spear, just as it was when Cabron captured her. The ink bottle remained firmly sealed, the quills untouched, paper still blank. Exhaustion dangled bags under her eyes and frayed her hair, but these superficial flaws did nothing to dampen the intense contempt in her gaze. It inspired such guilt in Lucius that he thought someone had poured a jar of spiders down his habit. Usually, this was the point that Lucius turned tail. Not today.

“You will write a letter to Dramien,” said Lucius. “You will inform him that if he turns over the hero, we will pardon his crimes and release you from captivity.”

“Suppose I did,” said Vera, “which I won’t, how would you even get the letter to him?”

“He’s lurking to the south as we speak,” replied the priest. “We’ll find him one way or another.” He leaned on the table. “I don’t want to hurt you, Vera. If not for the Goddess, do it for your husband.”

“I’ve seen real villains thanks to my father,” Vera sneered. “So stop wasting both our time with your empty threats and go drink yourself silly.”

Lucius began tracing arcs around Vera. Relying on muscle memory alone, he felt the momentary bliss of an empty mind, free from anxiety and accountability. He was an academy student again, pursuing the wonders of the arcane arts, one stroke at a time. If not for the back pain, this would’ve truly been a liberating experience.

He straightened, groaned, and went about planting candles. With the stage set, he produced a coin and dangled it before Vera. The housewife, perhaps sensing danger, closed her eyes and turned away.

“Look at the coin,” he commanded. “Look at the coin.”

Lucius channelled more magic as he continued mouthing the same demand. Unlike the other women without a smidgeon of esoteric sensibility, Vera had put up a considerable resistance. Beads of sweat dampened her hair, raced down her forehead, and cascaded onto her collar.

“You want to open your eyes,” urged Lucius. “You feel the need to open your eyes and stare at the coin.”

Vera’s head dropped like a broken marionette. Lucius froze. With great trepidation, he reached across the table, lifted her chin, looked into her eyes, and recoiled in terror. Mouth ajar, he let out disjointed whimpers as he scratched his face, drawing blood. He had broken her mind.

“No, no, no, no,” he muttered as desperate tears streaked down his cheeks. “I didn’t…”

He dared not look at Vera anymore. Her eyes, glistening with a righteous light but moments ago, was now dim and lifeless. Stumbling several times, Lucius fled the cellar only to bump into Cabron. The hunched man, frowning, caught the distressed priest by the wrist.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cabron, smirking. “Did she hurt your feelings?”

“Shut up!” howled Lucius, yanking his hand free. “This is your fault! All your fault!”

Cabron snorted, peered into the cell, and took a deep breath. “You think Dramien will still want her back?”

“Curse you,” spat Lucius. “Dramien is going to kill me!”

Cabron drew a few throwing knives for juggling. For him, busy hands meant a lucid mind. He took another glance at the fat priest and sighed. Had this walking sack of nepotistic lard not commanded the templars, he would’ve already shown Lucius his backhand.

“You’re thinking this wrong,” said Cabron. “What do you think would happen to her if the Sothrend failed to pay the hero tax?” He then smiled. “Besides, you’ve got that Harvale brat.”

The fidgeting priest’s eyes brightened. “Yes, yes…Harvale,” he whispered. “That Dracon hunter.”

“I could also take Vera off your hands,” Cabron suggested. “Out of sight, out of mind. How about it?”

Lucius waved an impatient hand and sped back to his room. Throwing open his personal stash, he rummaged through his tomes and jewellery to produce a short sceptre. Having seen little use in almost two decades, its handle was as smooth as the day his grandfather gave it to him.

For the first time since the disturbances, he stepped out of the church. Lifting his short staff, he channelled a burst of magic, invoking a golden light that summoned the templars to him. He may have never been to war, but even Lucius could sense low morale. The defeat from last night was a drop of red wine on a white habit, a stain impossible to remove.

“Brothers, our town is afflicted by a demon,” Lucius mustered his preaching voice. “This time, it is not just the lurking Dracons with their chains and swords.

“That demon our brothers vanquished recently is but a small piece of some greater evil. Given the recent disturbances, it is quite apparent that they have turned our community against each other. It is time we devout followers of the Goddess exorcised this evil and restored peace to our land.

“I ask of you an unsavoury but necessary task. Seek out those under demonic duress. Show them the mercy of the Goddess but mete out her wrath should you encounter resistance. We haven’t a moment to lose. Go.”