Chapter Nineteen: Shattered Order
Temple District- Athkatla, 9 Hammer, 1370 DR
The flaxen-haired Lady Irlana lay weeping beside the body of Sir Cadril, who lay, with a dagger thrust to the neck, dead before the temple. Irlana herself lay spattered with blood, from multiple stab wounds to her chest. She rasped out a faint prayer, and blue light appeared around her fingertips, as, selflessly she tried to heal Cadril to health. But her lay on hands could not raise the dead, and she dropped her hands uselessly over Cadril's chest, weeping still.
It was this scene that Nalia, Anomen and Keldorn arrived. Immediately, Anomen walked towards Irlana, and chanted a brief healing spell. Her wounds started to close, but before they could, a dark light appeared in the centre of the major wound, preventing it from being healed.
Nalia frowned. "It is a powerful magic, this…"
Anomen tried again, but his spell was stopped just as easily. Tears worked their way down his cheeks once again, as he looked at Irlana, who tried at a half-hearted smile, "It- it is time Anomen… If Helm sees me worthy enough, perhaps I can rest within his arms this day…"
Keldorn raised his sword in salute. "My Lady Irlana, I salute you."
The woman smiled faintly, her eyes glistening with tears formed from pain and grief. She faced Anomen, and forced out the words, "I have failed the Order, sir knight… I failed, and because of me, all are dead. The Radiant Heart is no more, the sword of justice, duty and honour is no more… because of me…"
Nalia knelt beside the woman, and tried one of the few spells she had left in her memory, a dispel magic. The green light flickered for a moment against the blackness in the wound, but then it faded. Irlana laid a comforting hand on Nalia's shoulder. "Do not waste any more time on me, Lady de'Arnise… do not waste magic… on one who is unworthy of… life."
Anomen shook his head fiercely. "No! Irlana, you are worthy of life, you are the bravest paladin I have know! You give of yourself before others, and your heart is as golden as your hair!"
Irlana chuckled, and blood left her mouth. "You… you are… as… as… chivalrous as… ever… my… my… lord…"
Nalia could see her fading, could see the life within her eyes fading away. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She placed her hand on the paladin's cheek, and asked, "Who did this, Irlana?"
The paladin coughed, "Terror… terror… lady… we thought they… thought they… wanted… wanted… shelter…"
Keldorn spoke, "Who wanted shelter?"
Irlana coughed again, and when she spoke, her voice faltered. "The children! Two… two… children… so innocent… so scared and… fearful of battle… we let them… let them into… Helm forgive me!" Her voice turned into a scream. "We let them into the Order, we thought they wanted shelter! Oh, Helm, by senses failed me, I was dull to their evil! I was the blade that allowed the force of our destruction to pass! I… I…"
A harsh cough, and a lot of blood escaped her lips. Her eyes, constricted in pain, drifted for a moment, before they stared at Nalia. "Lady… we… we… only realised… only realised… evil… when… when…other... other…"
A shiver ran down Nalia's spine.
Another cough, and this time, when Irlana tried to speak, the blood muffled her sound. She coughed again, and Anomen lifted her upwards, his arms clasping her in a warm embrace. His voice breaking into sadness, he spoke, "Helm embrace thee as I have done, Irlana… may his watchful eye see all that you have done in life, and may the beacon of your glory shine to all Helm's faithful… you have done well, Lady Knight."
A half-hearted smile appeared on Irlana's face, and she forced through the blood clogging her mouth, "Thank…"
A last, long cough that seemed filled with pain, and then her eyes rolled back in her forehead, and she fell limp against Anomen's chest. He raised his head to the air, and roared, "Helm, take her soul to safety!"
Behind Nalia, Keldorn started to cry.
* * *
It was a slaughterhouse.
They passed the bodies of apprentice knights, most boys hardly more than ten, who had died nevertheless with blessings of the gods on their lips, and swords and shields wielded against the evil.
By the appearance on their faces, they had died in absolute pain. Most now had their tongues torn out, and pinned over the sigils of their respective gods, or tied to gauntlets in a crude mockery of a lady's favour.
The elderly veterans of the Order had lasted slightly longer, but they to had died, and their arms had been chopped off and sewn with horrendous viciousness to the sides of their skulls. Nalia choked, and had to force bile back into her stomach where it belonged.
With every step they took, Anomen was murmuring prayers to Helm, and Keldorn was murmuring prayers to Torm. Nalia recognised the handiwork within this hall. It reminded her of the tunnels beneath her lands… the tunnels where she had faced the vampire, Velissa.
Which explained the children.
Nalia could imagine how easily the paladins in this place had fallen for the story of innocence. Their senses to detect evil would have failed as well, as they would have assumed it was caused by the evil clashing throughout the city.
A loud shout cut through their musings, as someone was shouting, "Helm, deliver me from this pain! Help me, Helm! Hear my prayer!"
Nalia's head whipped towards Anomen and Keldorn, and in unison, they breathed, "Survivor…"
As one, they burst into the main room of the Hall, and barely paused at the bodies scattered everywhere, and bodies bound to the statues of the paladins' gods… and the bodies lying face down in holy fonts… and the bodies nailed to torture wheels, and the bodies half-burned… and the bodies flayed alive… and the bodies stripped into tiny pieces of flesh… and…
So many bodies.
But one still moved, one surrounded by black wires of power, lashing and moving within his skin. Prelate Wessallen. Nalia tried to chant a dispel magic, but it did not dispel the wires. She heard Anomen chant his own, but he paled. "My… my prayers do not work within this place!"
Keldorn said sharply, "What?"
The knight whispered, "My prayers do not function…"
Nalia narrowed her eyes. "Someone is meddling with powerful forces…"
My little, pretty child… of course someone is meddling here. It would be me… remember?
Of course Nalia remembered. It would take her years to forget that whispering voice echoing throughout her mind. A dark mist gathered in front of them, and the vampire… Velissa… stood before them.
Keldorn swung Carsomyr, but it passed harmlessly through the vampire. Nalia sighed, "Illusion."
Anomen said, "This is her handiwork, then… all this slaughter… and torture…"
Of course, my friends… it is my handiwork… your precious little Order will die now, its paladins scattered, with no clear leadership… your Prelate a slave to the coursing power of pain. If I could not corrupt the Lady de'Arnise, at least I could corrupt the leader of paladins…
Nalia paled.
The vampire smiled. Goodbye, Nalia. I will see you again.
The illusion failed.
Anomen knelt beside the Prelate, who held out a hand. "Anomen… Anomen… I can feel the corruption spreading through me… by… by… by Helm, I can feel my faith mutating! I… I grow to enjoy this pain… I am starting to crave it…"
Nalia shook her head in disbelief. This was horrible… she wanted to wake up and have it all be a dream. How could the Prelate be corrupted by one vampire, however powerful?
Keldorn knelt beside the paladin as well.
"Keldorn… you… you… have to help me! Dispel this… this… this… vile thing… I need release, but I now not how! Helm is not answering my call! He ignores my cries, just as the mistress said he would."
Anomen's voice became sharp. "What did you say?"
The prelate cried with absolute despair. "I cannot help it! Gods, I hate it! Her power… it is… it is a terrible thing, Anomen! I have lost my will! She took my faith from my soul, and turned it into something evil, something broken…"
Nalia felt nauseated. To see a man who had been so pure, so holy, transformed into something so hopeless and pitiful shocked her to the core. Before her eyes, the face of the Prelate changed, and he gasped, "Oh, Loviatar! More! More! Give me more!"
Keldorn slapped his face. "Prelate, you will not desert Helm this day!"
His face changed back, and his spirit seemed broken. "Anomen… you… you must leader what remains of the Order. Your faith and power will guide us through this terror. Helm requires it of you, my son… Helm needs you. Here, I give you my official… official… no! Loviatar, I will not come to you! Anomen… take my hand… quickly… before I lose everything so completely…"
Anomen took his hand, face pale with sickness. "Prelate…"
Wessallen spoke quietly, "Helm… Helm… acknowledge… this… I, Wessallen, Knight and Paladin of
Helm, Prelate of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, pass on my duty to Anomen
Delryn, Knight of Helm, now Prelate… Prelate until your will calls him to your
embrace." The Prelate paused. "Now, Anomen… I need… I need you to kill me!
Before I turn completely to her I
need you to kill me!"
Keldorn stood. "I will do this, Lord. I
pray that Helm guides thee to his realm."
And with that, Keldorn swung with Carsomyr. Hope flared within the eyes of Wessallen, and Nalia breathed with relief. At least he would die in the grace of Helm, not-
Her thoughts stopped, as horror flared through her.
The last words on the lips of the Prelate were not prayers to Helm, but a last, agonised wail of: "Loviatar!"