Chapter 72. Lightbringer

t was late in the afternoon when they ascended the steep hill that led to Rilohn.  Covered in dust and exhausted to the point of collapse, the small party moved now by sheer will and the promise of a safe haven for the night.  Ishalha seemed certain they would find it there, but as they neared the gates of the little town, they heard a faint sigh of dismay from their leader.

Zhou had walked the last few miles, weak though he was.  Khunzar relented after he had talked some sense into him.  If it came to a conflict, they could ill afford to have their warrior incapacitated.  As it was, they were in poor condition for a fight.  Now it seemed one was immanent for the way ahead was guarded by a small detachment of Kournan soldiers.

“How many?” asked Khunzar, reaching into his pouch to retrieve a clove.  He chewed upon it absently, its spicy fragrance a welcome counterpoint to the cloying dust and sweat that clung to their bodies. Samira climbed down from a cluster of palm trees and retrieved her bow.  Her black mane had come free of its tail and flowed about her bronze face in tangled disarray.  Frowning, she gathered her hair as she spoke.

“Four.  They have a monk.”

“We should be able to take them easily,” Khunzar rumbled.

“Something troubles you,” Ishalha said to Samira, “I saw three before withdrawing.”

Tariq lifted his spear and shrugged an ornate shield emblazoned with a moon and stars onto his left arm.  The bold figure stood beside Khunzar, dropping his dun cloak to reveal his gleaming white armor.  He put Zhou in mind of an avenging angel.  Zhou withdrew now to stand beside Yajebe as Azuri clenched her scythe and prepared to battle beside her new comrades in arms.

“There is a creature with them I do not recognize,” the ranger replied, stringing her bow now that her hair was tied back once more, “It was made of purple flames and floated like a ghost.”

“Margonites,” Ishalha spat, “Then the rumors are true.  They are demonic creatures condemned to Torment for serving a fallen god.  How they arrived on this plane and escaped their imprisonment, I do not know but the Order has received rumors that they now fill the ranks of Varesh Ossa’s armies.”

Zhou knew of these creatures from his long studies.  He remembered seeing them during his journey to Torment to imprison Xenarach.  His master had trained him well in focusing the light of the gods upon them for they were weak before the Five.

“I am not afraid to face this creature,” Zhou said quietly.  The others looked grimly upon him and he realized how foolish he must have sounded leaning there against the rocks, dirty and emaciated. 

“We have little choice,” Ishalha said grimly, “That which follows us is far worse and we cannot tarry here or we will face both at once.”

Khunzar laughed and drew his curved sword.  Zhou knew from their brief conversations that the man was weary of fleeing and longed to stand his ground and fight.  He unslung his sturdy buckler from his pack and strapped it to his left arm in readiness for battle.  Ishalha gazed upon them, seeing they were prepared to go forth and nodded, herself staying back as the warrior and the paragon trotted gracefully up the canyon and drew the eye of their foe.  Zhou rushed after them as quickly as his weakened frame allowed.

“No, do not fight,” Ishalha called to his back but he ignored her, seeking the Margonite and gathering the gift of the gods to himself.  He had prayed for their light every morning and evening before sleep and he felt its potent flare upon him now.  For every demon he had returned to the depths of Torment, it blazed and marked him for a slayer of their foul kind.

And indeed, when the vile Margonite fixed its vivid six-eyed stare upon him, it quailed and raised its staff, deciding to strike him above all others for it saw its death in his fierce gaze.  He uttered a swift prayer to the five and the creature was struck, its spell fizzling uselessly and its glowing lavender flesh twisting with pain.  Now he spoke a single word when it sought to call lightning down upon his head and it snarled, denied once more.  His blood sang with its stolen energies and for a moment he felt powerful again, the part of him that had always enjoyed battle awakened.

By that time, Ishalha had caught up to him and the dark powers of Grenth’s realm curled up from the earth and wreathed her in dire magics.  The sorcerer’s life bled away and it crumpled to the ground as necrotic energies pounded into its frail flesh.  Without a word, her grim visage turned to focus upon the Kournan soldiers as Zhou invoked his most powerful hex upon a warrior, causing the man to stumble blindly to the ground and die screaming in agony as Samira feathered his retreating back with arrows.  Azuri was a blur of swirling red robes beside Khunzar’s enthusiastically fighting figure, the Kournan priest having fallen to them and the scribe gasping in pain as they finished him off.

Ishalha gazed upon Zhou appraisingly but said nothing, shaking her head when he moved forward to help them throw the bodies into the brush and out of sight.  He withdrew to the shade and sat upon the dusty ground.  He accepted a long pull of water from the flask that Yajebe proffered to him.

“Impressive,” the little monk said, sitting down, “Clearly you have fought many demons.”

“A few.”

“How long have you been a practioner?”

Ishalha was watching him, having returned ahead of the others.  It was clear she was also interested in the answer.

“Almost twelve years.”

“Your teacher,” she said pointedly, “Was he from Elona, perchance?”

“Yes, Suhlevar Fahim.”

If she recognized the name, she concealed it and merely nodded.

“He might have been a member of your order.  Would you tell me about it?”

“I am certain he was.  Our members are to be found everywhere,” Ishalha replied mysteriously, “You will learn of the Order in good time, Master Bei, I assure you.  I assume you are still eager to hunt demons?”

“Always,” Zhou said, his response almost flippant.  The only others who knew of his geas were Pendaran and Shikai.  The rest were dead and he preferred not to share that knowledge with anyone else.

Ishalha nodded and turned as Khunzar arrived with the others in tow.

“The way to Rilohn is clear according to Samira.”

“Good, we must make haste, then.”

Khunzar slung his shield over his pack and moved toward Zhou, surprised when his charge rose stiffly and stepped away.

“I will walk, thank you, master warrior.”

Khunzar snorted a laugh and nodded, unable to hide his relief.  Now that the heat of battle was cooling, exhaustion was slipping back in to replace it.

“When we get home, I’m not leaving the bath for a day,” Khunzar rumbled.

“We’re going to the Chantry,” Ishalha replied, walking on ahead of them, “No baths, but the Elon flows outside the gate.”

“I thought we were going to Koddash?” Khunzar said, dismayed.

“You can move on, but I and Master Bei will stay behind.”

“Over my dead body,” the warrior said, pausing to shove a clove between his teeth, “If you have Order business, say so next time.”

Ishalha laughed and a smile lightened her scarred features at the loyalty of her friend.

“You know Jahai Fortress will be crawling with Kournans? The path to the Chantry will not be easy,” Khunzar said.

“We will skirt the floodplains and move through Bahdock Caverns.  With any luck, we’ll lose our pursuers while hiding underground,” Ishalha said, “Then we’ll be in Vabbi and the Kournans will leave us alone.”

They reached the craggy fastness of Rilohn an hour before sunset and were welcomed by the small gathering of miners and travelers that made temporary homes there.  The quiet little settlement had the sparest comforts, but it flew the flag of truce and was thus a safe haven from the war that raged outside.  Zhou thought this an odd arrangement for the place was a perfect trap surrounded by high walls of stone and mining pits.  Ishalha explained that some settlements existed in this neutral state to allow trade to continue.  It benefited those who waged war as well as those who sought to avoid its depredations.

The tents and bedding they had been hauling with them came out at last and a fire blazed merrily between the two dun-colored structures.  Yajebe made a spicy concoction of beans and shredded chicken that he served with pan-fried slices of fresh unleavened bread.  Their spirits went up with good food and water and the promise of a comfortable night’s sleep.  There was ample shelter from the night wind in the refuge and soon they retired.  Ishalha seemed almost possessive when she insisted Zhou bed down in the tent she shared with Khunzar and Yajebe while the others filed into the second tent.

Yajebe fussed over him before he slept, seizing the opportunity to attend to his hurts and ease the pain of his jaw.  At last Zhou curled into his blankets and slept solidly until dawn.  Another good meal of egg, goat cheese and bread awaited him when he awakened.  They were in good spirits and eager to get to Vabbi.  Zhou cajoled Yajebe into letting him bear a pack so that he could help carry his own bedding and his share of the gear.  As he was rolling up his bedding, Samira arrived, flushed and breathing rapidly.

“They await us on the floodplain.  There are five humans and three Margonites.  The demon is also with them.”

Ishalha nodded grimly.

“I informed the people of this settlement that we were being pursued by Varesh’s forces and it made them all the more eager to shelter us.  They have no love for her dalliance with evil and defy her.”

“Then we could stay and fight from here,” Khunzar rumbled, glancing at the high walls of the canyon behind them.  Short of flying and the sturdy south gate, there was no other means of leaving Rilohn.

“And in waiting, more Kournan forces will arrive and everyone here will pay,” Zhou said, no longer willing to sit on the sidelines.  This was a strange land, but he knew how wars played out from long affiliation with them.  If Varesh employed demons, then she was at least as ruthless as the Orrians who had once employed him, “The right thing would be to annihilate those who are here for us now and hide the evidence, otherwise we risk leaving these innocent people to face the wrath of their ruler.”

He felt their gaze upon him but he did not look away.

“I do not want any harm to befall you,” Ishalha replied, “My intention is to deliver you to the Order unharmed, but I agree.  Ultimately, our refuge may become a trap.  We must defeat them now before their number increases.”

“Which ones first?”

“Margonites,” Zhou said, “They are weak but their spells are potent.  I can deal with them quickly with some support from Samira and yourself, Ishalha. That leaves the others to dispatch their support.  The greater demon we must all face as one, for it is possible it may call to Torment when weakened and multiply.”

A calculating smile traced Ishalha’s lips and she nodded.

“These are suggestions I might make myself.  Clearly you know the ways of these creatures.  Does anyone disagree with this plan?”

Everyone shook their head and went immediately to prepare for battle. Zhou watched them.  There was little for him to do but wait anxiously.  Ishalha moved swiftly toward the refuge’s gathering of miner’s tents and disappeared within them.  When she emerged some minutes later, she had three men with her.

“Nabil has offered his healing skills in support of the coming battle.  Wazar and Marduc have some skill with a bow and will fire upon our foes if we draw them toward the gate.”

Ishalha nodded to the older of the three, a short figure with smile lines worn into his deeply seamed face and splashes of gray in his short-cropped hair.  He bowed deeply to Zhou and held out a simple wooden staff with a hand-woven wrapping.

“Lady Ishalha says you do not have a staff to focus your magic,” said Nabil, “This was my grandfather’s old staff, consecrated to Grenth.  I have no need of it, and though I understand it may not be perfect for your cause, still it is better than nothing.”

Zhou thanked the man and bowed, more curious than ever about Ishalha’s nature.  He clasped the staff and knew that its humble appearance belied a well worked and treasured item.  It would serve him until he could recover one of his own treasured focuses.

Without bothering to finish breaking camp, they moved swiftly toward the great gate. Samira rushed ahead of them with her black longbow strung and an arrow nocked.  From the slope of the road she was able to increase the distance of the arrow’s flight.  With careful aim, she struck true, drawing a roar of rage from the misshapen silhouette of the demon.  The beastly figure scrabbled away from its band and charged up the hill, snarling ferociously when Samira sent another arrow to needle its slavering jaw.  The sooty creature towered over the slim ranger, its six legs churning up the dust of the road and the skulls dangling from its broad horny back rattling eerily.

“If we move swiftly, we can kill it before the others catch up to support it,” Ishalha shouted, “Destroy it now!”

Zhou launched his hexes upon it, gratified when its seeking talons swept the air before Samira and missed her, its six glassy eyes clouded with pain and blindness.  An ugly elephantine roar emanated from its gangrel throat seeding a cloud of ghastly contagious vapor upon the morning air.  Khunzar fell back choking with Azuri beside him as Ishalha finished the fierce incantation of her curse.  The beast slowed, its life energies draining away as Zhou and Ishalha hexed it again.  Restored by Yajebe, Khunzar roared once more into the fray with a whirl of gleaming steel.  His sword sparked and sang against the creature’s warty hide.  It was Azuri’s gracefully whirling scythe that found the creature’s soft underbelly and painted the earth with a spray of ghastly black ichor.  Above the roar and tramp of madly scrambling feet, Tariq’s voice rose, his chants and songs lending strength and resolve to the blows of his comrades as he hurled his spear against the beast’s flank.

Howling in pain, the beast whirled around with unearthly speed, lashing out at the young dervish and casting her headlong to the ground with a bone-grinding crash.  Zhou summoned the light of the gods, searing its foul hide and bringing it up short with a roar of agony and rage.  In that moment, Azuri was able to roll away from its claws and regain her feet. Tattered and bleeding, she uttered a swift prayer and moved bravely back into combat.  Khunzar slashed a gaping line of oozing blackness upon the creature’s breast, drawing its ire.  He parried gracefully, his shield and blade crashing and ringing as it snapped the air before him and was brought up short. Samira and the archers on the wall filled the creature’s flank with feathers.  When it hesitated, its rage replaced with fear, they punched its leg tendons full of holes.  As it tried to limp away, Zhou and Ishalha chanted the demon hunter’s prayer in unison and the light of the gods burned from their gazes.  With a last helpless howl of disbelief and agony, the immense figure slumped to the earth and steamed as its essence was returned to Torment.

Ishalha smiled crookedly at him, then rushed down to join the others as the Margonites and Kournan soldiers gathered, looking on in dismay as the dreadful beast lay rotting in the morning sunlight.

“No survivors!” Ishalha shouted and Zhou rushed after her as the seven of them ran forth to face their foe.  As planned, she and Zhou focused their attentions upon the Margonites: a lean sorcerer, a necromancer, and a mesmer.  The drifting creatures chanted the name of their terrible god and faced them only to shriek in agony as the light of the Five burned their frail flesh.  The arrows of three rangers struck the enemy mesmer and laid it low.  Before the vile necromancer could raise an accursed well from the fallen body of its comrade, Zhou snapped a single word of power and brought it up short, absorbing energy enough from the fizzling spell to fill the creature’s mind with nightmares.  Ishalha focused upon the sorcerer, draining away its life energies as the rangers now forbade it the use of its lightning.  A final burst of holy light erupted from Zhou’s eyes and the two creatures fell.

The Kournan soldiers had lost their healer and now turned to flee.  Too late.  A hail of arrows pinned them down and the full force of hexes, spear, scythe and sword cut them down like ripe wheat.  The battle that had been several days in the making lasted less than a quarter of an hour with no one harmed on the side of victory.

No sooner had they begun cleaning the blood from their blades and returning to the gate than did the people of Rilohn arrive to throw oil over the corpse of the demon and set it ablaze.  Nabil rushed down to them as quickly as his old frame could carry him.

“Go,” he said, “We will dispose of the bodies, but you must be well away before more soldiers come.”

“We are indebted to you for your help and kindness.  Please extend my gratitude to your people,” Ishalha said. 

No one spoke as they caught their breaths and hurried toward the tents.  In less than half an hour they were ready to go, laded with gifts of fresh food from the refuge and rushing north toward Bahdock Caverns.