Chris Pierson - Divine Hammer

The Kingpriest climbed down from his chariot. A stillness fell over the mob as the people watched their ruler step toward the grove. Sir Olin and his knights fell in around him, crossbows at the ready, while Quarath and the other hierarchs followed behind. Beldinas came to a halt, raising his hands into the air. Cupped within them he held a goblet of pale crystal, which reflected the ruby glisten of the Miceram.

He drew a deep breath, then the musical sound of his voice issued forth, echoing across the square.

“Fe Paladas cado,” he began, “bid Istaras apalo. I ask you this. Yield to the god’s power, and beg mercy for defying him. Hide, and his wrath shall fall upon thee. Do you surrender?”

The only reply was the hiss of the olive trees in the wind. Beldinas waited for a long moment, then repeated the call. Again, there was no answer, and so he spoke the words a third time. Still the Tower stood silent, its turrets glistening like blood as morning’s shadows shortened across the city.

“Very well,” the Lightbringer declared, and hurled the goblet to the ground. It smashed against the paving stones, shards skittering in all directions. “The Cutubo has begun. For if you defy us, we are at war. Let none who honors the god give thee air or succor, and the faithful wreak Paladine’s justice upon thy benighted souls. Sifat.”

“Sifat,” echoed the mob.

Some, it seemed from the disappointed sighs, had expected the god’s wrath to fall immediately. The Tower, however, remained silent. If Quarath hadn’t known better, he would have thought it empty, already abandoned. The mages were watching them, using their magic if not their eyes. He held his breath, knowing what would come next. Let the wizards watch this, then, he thought.

For a long moment, Beldinas was still. Then, eyes flashing, he flung his arms out, toward the grove. The shroud of light around him flared bright, becoming almost unbearable, then flashed away, across the square toward the trees. Quarath gasped, feeling the impact as they struck the magical barriers the sorcerers had erected, flaming them like dragon’s breath. All around the Kingpriest folk fell back, crying out. Beldinas’s mouth opened in a wordless shout, his back arching, his feet rising from the ground-

Then, suddenly, the holy light ruptured, showering silver splinters all around. The Lightbringer’s shout became a cry of astonishment, and he dropped back to the ground.

Quarath ran to his side to keep him from falling as, around him, folk spat curses and groaned in despair. Beldinas slumped, breathing hard, drained by what he had tried to do.

Catching him up, Quarath looked toward the Tower.

The olive trees stood unscathed, whispering in the breeze.

“Curse them,” Beldinas declared. “May Paladine burn them all to ashes.”

Quarath kept silent as he strode through the Temple’s entry hall, past statues and frescoes, crystal fountains and goldberry trees. He barely noticed any of these. His eyes were focused on the Lightbringer. He knew how to comport himself in awkward times, having risen to his position during Kurnos’s brief reign. The Usurper had had a temper like a dry forest, capable of flaring into a blaze at the smallest spark. Beldinas was different, though. He seldom grew angry, and when he did he was more likely to simmer. When he grew quiet and still, as he was now, the Emissary knew it was better to stay silent as well.

First Son Levic, however, did not know better. Newly arrived from the grand cathedral of Odacera, where he had been high priest, he was still unaccustomed to the workings of the court. Now, as the hierarchs followed their sovereign through the towering, platinum doors to the Hall of Audience, he coughed softly and spoke.

“There must be a way, Holiness,” he said.

“Must there?” Beldinas repeated, glancing over his shoulder. His voice made the crystal dome above him ring.

“They’re just trees. How can they stand, before the god’s glory?”

The Kingpriest had just stepped onto the blue mosaic that rippled before his golden throne. Now he stopped, turning to level a burning glance at the First Son. Quarath fell back another step, not wanting those eyes to flick toward him. The Lightbringer’s aura flashed like a thundercloud.

“They are not just trees,” Beldinas said. “The enchantment upon them is old, and it has the power of the moons behind it. You did not feel it pushing back against you. It would be easier, it seems, to flatten the whole city than to break that one spell.”

“But, Holiness-” Levic began.

“Enough!”

Quarath started. It had been years since Beldinas last raised his voice. Levic shrank back, and the other hierarchs all found somewhere else to look. The Kingpriest stood perfectly still, trembling a little, then shook his head, one hand going to his brow. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and weary.

“Leave,” he said. “I must meditate more. This court will resume tomorrow.”

The hierarchs departed, most of them gladly. Quarath turned toward an antechamber laden with food and wine. He longed for a cup of watered claret.

Halfway there, however, the Kingpriest called to him. “Not you, Emissary. I want you to stay with me.”

Quarath silently exulted that the Lightbringer had chosen him, of all his counselors, to remain. A few other courtiers shot him envious looks, which only pleased him more. He started back toward the dais.

He got there just in time. No sooner had the rest of the hierarchs left the Hall than Beldinas began to sway on his feet. Quarath reached out, catching him as his knees gave way, and lowered him down to sit upon the dais’s lowest step.

“Majesty,” Quarath said, crouching beside the Kingpriest, “are you all right?”

Beldinas managed a nod, his breath coming hard. “That effort at the Tower weakened me more than I expected. That’s all.”

The elf nodded, understanding. He could see the shadows of fatigue beneath the Lightbringer’s eyes. The god’s power had blazed strong in him today, and when it faded, it always seemed to leave behind an invisible wound. Beldinas bowed his head, resting his brow against his knuckles.

“Is this the right thing I’m doing, Quarath?” he asked.

The elf regarded him silently, then reached out and rested a hand on the Kingpriest’s arm. “They defy you, Holiness,” he said. “They tried to kill you, just as Kurnos did. They did kill many others.”

“But is more killing the answer?” Beldinas looked up, his eyes dark.

“If they oppose you,” Quarath replied, “they oppose the god-and what is more evil than working against the will of Paladine? If you wish to make light everlasting a reality, you must finally break free of these sorcerers.”

Beldinas met his gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “Very well, Emissary. I thank you for your wisdom. Now,” he went on, pushing himself to his feet, “I would like to rest in comfort. Let us retire to the manse, where we can be at peace.”

Smiling in satisfaction, Quarath followed the Kingpriest out of the hall, the crystal dome echoing his footsteps.

Gears rattling, the clockwork falcons looked up as Beldinas and Quarath emerged onto the balcony that had become their roost. There were three of them lined up on the balustrade, all brass and copper glinting in the sun. When the time came to order the assault upon the Towers, the birds would fly forth, two to the west and one to the south.

They would bear the Kingpriest’s orders to Yarns, Serl, and Cathan. For now, however, they waited, as did everyone else in the Lordcity.

The Lightbringer crossed to one of them, holding out his hand. It regarded him with the expressionless jewels of its eyes, then hopped onto his wrist. It was heavy, but he managed a smile as he held it up, turning toward Quarath.