Priest

The Priest is one of the Characters in For The King.

The Priest Lore
A gibbous moon peered in the window of Warden Fraybee’s second floor study. A candle guttered on the edge of the priest’s desk, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at this sign that she was again up too late. Fraybee held a fresh candle to the dying flame of the old, briefly touched her amulet of Yeyviel and murmured a prayer, then went back to her writing, an academic piece on the changing paths of astronomical bodies. She was deep in concentration, and started at a soft knocking on the open door to her study. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin man. He wore a brown priest’s robe, though he had no amulet showing to which god he prayed. His mouth open in a sly smile, the man said “Warden, I do hope I’m not disturbing you.” Without waiting for an invitation he stepped into the study and sat on a spare stool. “I have a grave matter to discuss with you. Most important.” “This is highly unusual,” Fraybee said. She was annoyed by the late night intrusion, but she always made herself available day or night to her fellow worshippers so her innate hospitality softened her response. “I assume you have an urgent matter of faith?” “Oh yes, urgent indeed. Time is running out. And it is most assuredly a matter of faith. May I smoke, Warden?” “Of course,” Fraybee said as she packed fresh godsbeard into her own pipe and lit it from the candle. The stranger leaned forward with his pipe and did the same. “Many thanks,” the stranger said as smoke filled the room. “Now, brace yourself Warden, for I bear grim tidings. This world is doomed, unless we are willing to save it. Ancient forces are awakening and the old gods, who have been silent for a thousand years, will avail us not.”
 * Fraybee breathed deeply. Though relieved to find that this odd visitor was merely a deluded fanatic, there was something troubling about him.

“How came you by that robe, my friend?” she asked. Again the stranger’s smile made Fraybee uneasy. He breathed out a cloud of blue smoke, then said “You do not take me seriously, or you would not ask about my manner of dress. No matter, I do not expect a leap of faith, even from a priest. Perhaps, especially from a priest.” The stranger reached into his robe and brought out his holy symbol, which was unlike any Fraybee had seen before. Certainly it was not for a god of the Paridian pantheon. The symbol was that of a great tower. It made her think of the ancient Titan Towers, whose purpose was lost and long forgotten. The sight of the unknown symbol numbed Fraybee with a low terror. “And to which god do you pray?” she asked. “When I first donned these robes I prayed to Kammareth, and continued to do so for many years. Not once did he deign to answer me, though my faith was resolute.” “And now?” Fraybee asked. “Now my devotions are for Mariglio Vexor, the savior of Fahrul, who will wield the Ether Scythe.” The stranger leaned forward on the stool, almost leering as he went on. “The Titans are stirring, Warden Fraybee. Chaos is squirming free of its ancient prisons and is already erupting across this land. Only Vexor can wield the Scythe and put them to eternal rest.” “How is it that you pray to Vexor? He is a hero for certain, but a mortal hero.” “Mortal, yes. But do gods beget prayers? Or do prayers create gods?” Fraybee did not see the point of answering his rhetoric. “You speak of the long silence of the gods, but what of the Titans? If the gods have been silent for centuries, then the Titans have been no more than legend for millennia.” “Indeed, indeed. But while the gods fled Fahrul altogether, the Titans have remained, merely asleep. Something has awakened them, and to put them once more to rest we must put our faith in something more effective than departed deities.” Fraybee set down her pipe as she felt her growing dread transform suddenly to a righteous fury. “How dare you? You come to my study, unannounced in the dead of night, with mad ramblings of Titans and chaos, and then you speak to me of departed deities?” The Warden was now on her feet, leaning over her desk. “If you are truly in contact with Mariglio Vexor, which I sincerely doubt, then go back to him and tell him to keep his blasphemous cultists out of Oarton. The faith of these people is under my protection and I will not permit a silver-tongued heretic to confuse them with preposterous lies. In the morning I shall be asking around, and if I find you have not left town you will see what the wrath of a departed deity is worth.”
 * The stranger stood seething from his stool. “This has been a much less civil discussion than I had hoped for. You are making an error, Warden Fraybee. The consequences will be felt not only by you and your flock, but all of Fahrul shall suffer for your willful ignorance.”

“Begone!” shouted Fraybee. With a final poisonous glare, the stranger turned and left. Fraybee went to the window and watched as he exited her home and walked toward the inn at the town center. The ember of his pipe bobbed in the night, until it too disappeared. Sitting back down, she breathed deeply to calm herself. She held her holy amulet and turned it over, feeling its contours and finding comfort in the familiar design. She squinted at it, noticing an odd glint on the polished metal. She cupped her hand over it, shielding it from the candlelight, and held it close to her eye. Where was that gleam coming from? Fraybee closed the shutter to keep out the moonlight and blew out the candle on her desk. Darkness settled over the study, save for a glimmer of light coming from the amulet of Yeyviel.

After Warden Fraybee expelled the heretic from her home, he had gone straight to the tavern and spewed his lies there. By Fraybee’s count eight villagers had left town with him to join a cult worshipping Mariglio Vexor as a god. Vexor was a heroic mage and a great friend of King Bronner. Surely the heretic was worshipping Vexor without his knowledge. He wouldn’t be so foolish to pretend to godhood. Fraybee now approached an ancient low wall of stone and mortar. The grass about it was high and trees had grown all about it. The wall marked the perimeter of the ancient cathedral ground which was her destination. From what she had gathered from the barkeep, this had to be the destination of the heretic and his recruits. The Warden climbed over a break in the wall and continued until the great steeple, still intact after all the centuries, was visible through the treetops. The cathedral had been abandoned for as long as any could remember, and some scholars placed its origins in the time of the Titans. What were they doing here? The cathedral’s stone steps and heavy iron doors now loomed out of the trees. One of the doors was ajar, open enough to walk through. The day was hot and Fraybee had walked far. Despite her fears of what she might find within those doors, she looked forward to being shaded by cool stone. Though its glow was imperceptible in the sunlight Fraybee knew her amulet of Yeyviel was glowing softly where it hung against her brown priest’s robe. This recent phenomenon was a sign that the power of the gods was real, and she hoped it would be enough to sway the heretic’s recruits away from this path of blasphemy. Breathing deeply, she ascended the stair and passed into darkness. The sudden transition from daylight to shadow left Fraybee temporarily blinded. As her eyes adapted she perceived the inside of the cathedral was large and open. High narrow windows let in slanting shafts of sunlight, but blackness cloaked most of the cathedral. “Heretic!” Fraybee called into the dark. If he was here, he already knew the Warden had come, and Fraybee refused to be intimidated. “I told you last night I would show you the wrath of my god. Look now upon my holy symbol, for it is alive with divine light.” Indeed the amulet of Yeyviel seemed to glow more brightly than ever, and illuminated Fraybee’s immediate surroundings. She began to walk toward the altar at the cathedral’s end. “So it is.” A sly voice came from the shadows ahead. “I do hope Yeyviel’s power is not limited to a glimmer that can be outshone by a candle, or you may be in real danger here, Warden.” “I don’t fear you,” answered the Warden as she slowly walked forward. “And I don’t fear my fellow worshippers.” “Fellow worshippers no longer. They have accepted the truth. The combined strength of the Paridian pantheon will be insufficient for the threat Fahrul now faces.” “And Mariglio Vexor is stronger than all the gods? That is foolish.” “But it is true, Warden.” Now Fraybee had reached the foot of the altar. The heretic must be right before her. Lifting the amulet of Yeyviel, Fraybee cast its light over a raised dais. Dimly she made out a row of figures standing before her. The central figure stepped forward into the light, revealing the heretic. “I have startling new for you Warden,” the heretic hissed. “More startling than what I revealed to you last night. You will join our cause this day.” “You are hopelessly deluded,” Fraybee seethed. “My life has been devoted to Yeyviel and the pantheon. My life, heretic! It was not a passing fancy I abandoned because my hopes and wishes remained unaddressed. To me this is not a path to power and influence; it is a way to access the vital truths of existence.” As she spoke, the amulet of Yeyviel began glowing brighter. She could see the face of the heretic who stood now beside the altar. “Excellent, then you are a seeker of truth. You have come to the right place.” “Enough!” the Warden shouted, and a flare of illumination came from her amulet. Before it subsided, she made out the grinning heretic, and behind him a row of seven villagers. Faces she knew, some since they were children, watching grimly. And on the altar… the mutilated body of Hark, a young man who worked a fishing boat in Oarton. “Save us,” Fraybee whispered. “What have you done?” “Ah yes,” the heretic lamented. “This one had to be culled. It was very unfortunate, but he was irresolute.” “But…” She looked to the row of figures. “Wenda, this was your brother!” From the shadows came Wenda’s stony reply. “He was irresolute.” The heretic drew a dagger and stepped toward Fraybee. The dark figures behind him moved to follow. Fraybee abandoned her hopes of winning back the converts. She turned and began running to the iron doors. She had almost reached the patch of light from the open doorway when an ominous figure stepped in front of it. Fraybee tried to halt, caught her foot on something, and fell heavily to the stone floor. “Warden Fraybee.” His voice rumbled in the stones she lay upon. It was rich with intelligence and age. “I have long admired your scholarly works. You are perceptive and credulous. Your mind is unfettered by agenda. You seek only truth. Nowhere will you see the truth more clearly than with me. I want you to serve at my side, eternally.” The new holy symbol of the Tower shone brightly from around his neck, illuminating his face. Fraybee looked up at him in horror. “It really is you,” she said. The heretic and his followers now stood around her, daggers out. Their leader stood still in the doorway, looming over all. Warden Fraybee clutched her amulet of Yeyviel to her heart. Tears welled in her eyes. “I will die before I serve you.” “Yes,” he replied. “That will be necessary.” Fraybee closed her eyes as the blades went in.