Chapter 5 – The Accursed Land

And it came to pass that a long-lived storm came from the Dark Lord's land of WHATEVER, and the looming, grey clouds brought with them a curse. The people grew gaunt and weak, they sickened and did not rise again. The Grand Alliance knew it did not fight alone, it counted on the peoples of the Free Lands to be strong and to resist Nilstat's evil with all their strength, yet their resistance vanished beneath the smothering grey clouds he sent.

The wizards of the Alliance studied the curse and threw against it every counter-curse they knew, but to no avail. The curse seemed to be of a magic of a kind unknown to them, one they could neither understand nor counter.

"Forgive us, my Lord," Said Oretic the Dry, chief Wizard of the court of King Didronel, "But we are no better off than we when we began. We know this magic exists, yet we cannot engage it for we cannot find it; indeed, we know not exactly what we seek! Your Majesty, I fear we are lost, that the plague will cover all the lands with sickness and malaise."

In the end it was not a wizard who found the answer to Nilstat's evil, but a humble monk. He was of an order that worshipped the Good Goddess Haart, but for the most part their prayers were given to the fighting of demons, not worship. The monks believed the demons aided and abetted the Evil Gods that brought all sickness and suffering into the world, that though each demon was tiny and insignificant in its own right, great curses such as Nilstat's could not be fulfilled without their aid. So by prayer and fasting they killed the demons and prevented the emergence of new ones; by their efforts much evil was spared the world.

So the monks of Zidovudine began to pray, and lo! Nearby those who had sickened began to strengthen! Light came to their eyes again, they rose from their beds and walked!

But so few, too few. The sick and weak were all throughout the land, the monks could not protect them all, for they were only a small order and weak compared to the might of Nilstat the Dark Lord.

Didronel was wise, and reasoned that if one small order or monks might have such an effect, might not several such orders do more? So he summoned all the monks of Haart unto him, and bade them all work together to banish Nilstat's curse from the land.

"Pray together?" Said the Abbot Zidovudine of the order of Nerti.. "But your majesty, they are heretics, we are at scism! We believe that prayers against Esatpircsnart King of Minor Demons are best made within the Nave, while they pray without! It is wrong, we cannot condone such shocking practices!"

"Dotard!" Cried Nevirapine, Abbot of the order of Neo-Nerti. "Haart herself has blessed our ways! You be no true worshipper if ye deny the Goddess herself!"

"Fie!" Cried Saquinavir, abbot of the third order. "I shame ye both in the name of the Goddess! The King of Demons is Protease , not Esatpircsnart! Ye pray against the wrong enemy!"

"Peace, gentle Abbots, as ye love thy Goddess and they people, peace!" Elvenking Didronel sighed, knowing how futile it could be to argue with humans over such subjects. "I beg thee, forget they quarrels over these issues and..." But he was drowned out as the three abbots and the assembled monks all began to argue.

But in another instant the quarrels ceased, for a gentle white light filled the candlelit chamber, and a disembodied voice, a female voice like music was heard.

"Put aside they differences, all ye my children!" Said the mysterious voice. "Love each other, love the people around thee! Use thy powers against Nilstat's plague, not against each other! Pray ye together until the curse is lifted, I charge thee!

The light faded and the voice was heard no more. Neither were quarrels heard, for the three orders of monks pledged to work together until the curse was ended. So dedicated were they that they even forbore to debate the deeper meaning of the Goddess's words among themselves, until the crisis was past.

"Master Oretic, do you think they'll believe it?" The Sorcerer's apprentice whispered, on a hidden balcony overlooking the chamber.

"If they don't, they won't dare say so." Replied Oretic the Dry, chief Wizard of Didronel's court. "Their love of their goddess is too strong, as is their desire to be more in her favor than their fellows. They will never admit their goddess did not speak directly to them, and before the king."

"Was it right, Sir, to imitate a Goddess? The Gods are jealous, and their wroth when angered is great."

"Was it right? I think so, young apprentice. Aught which harmeth none and endeth Nilstat's curse cannot be too objectionable. And as for the Gods..." The old wizard suddenly looked tired and old. "I will answer directly to them, before too long. This war will be long and fierce, and I, I shall not survive it."

"Master, no!"

"It will come to you, my child, the foresight. .It will come when needed most, when it comes ye must know how to act. Come, let us seek our tower, and resume the fight against Nilstat!"

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