T Lain - Return of the Damned

“But not unrecognized by Pelor,” said Jozan.

Alhandra smiled. “Your faith is stronger than when last we met, cleric. It’s good to see.”

Jozan blushed. “Experience has a way of clearing up the quandaries of youth.”

Alhandra stepped away from the pillar. She waved to Jozan. “Come,” she said.

The two walked through the courtyard of the cathedral.

“Tell me,” said the paladin as they strolled, “what brings you to St. Clembert’s?”

“Actually,” replied the cleric, “my business here is done. I was on my way out when you found me.”

The paladin nodded. “Any news of our mutual friends?”

Jozan whistled. “Too much to tell in one afternoon,” he said. “I’ll see if I can’t give you the condensed version.”

“You do that.” Alhandra chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to keep you here any longer than need be.”

Jozan blushed. “You misunderstand.”

Alhandra put her hand on his shoulder. “Go on, I’m only joking.”

Jozan blushed more deeply at her touch, then he looked away. “Well, last I saw Lidda, she was up to her usual antics. She convinced Krusk to head over to New Coast for one of her ‘entrepreneurial ventures.’”

They both laughed.

“I haven’t seen them since they left, but knowing Lidda, they’re likely in jail, or breaking out of jail, or getting someone killed,” continued the cleric.

“Perhaps all three,” agreed Alhandra.

“I passed through New Koratia to see Regdar on my way here.”

The paladin wrinkled her forehead. “New Koratia? That’s not exactly on the way to St. Clembert’s unless you’re coming from the middle of the ocean.”

Jozan nodded. “You’re right,” he admitted, “but I had news about Naull.”

Alhandra stopped dead in her tracks. “Naull?”

“Yes.” Jozan stopped as well. “I met some missionaries who had barely escaped a run-in with a slave caravan,” he explained. “One of them used to deliver apples to Naull’s mentor, so he knew Naull’s face. He recognized her in the caravan.” The cleric shrugged. “I thought Regdar should know. He’s been almost suicidal ever since he lost her.”

Alhandra stood in the courtyard of St. Clembert’s, her jaw rigid, her gaze pointed toward the sky.

Jozan looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Alhandra, what is it?”

The paladin lowered her stare, and her eyes pierced straight through Jozan, giving him an uneasy feeling.

“Are you sure this man was telling the truth?”

The cleric nodded. “I even prayed to Pelor for guidance.” He looked up. “I believe what he said was true.”

“And you told Regdar all of this?”

Jozan nodded. “Yes. Why?”

Alhandra shook her head. “Because if Naull is alive, then so too may be my sister—the blackguard Lindroos.”

A cold chill ran down Jozan’s spine. “Regdar went to find Naull,” he said.

“When he finds her,” Alhandra finished the cleric’s thought, “he’ll find Lindroos.”

Jozan stood motionless for a moment.

“We’ve got to help him,” said Alhandra.

Jozan shook himself out of his brief stupor. “But he went to Mt. Fear. That’s more than a week’s travel by foot, four days even by horse. He could be dead by then.”

“Come with me.” Alhandra jogged off across the courtyard. “I know someone who might be of help.”

Regdar waved his hands in front of him, hoping to ward off what was coming. “Naull, can’t we just talk about this?”

The petite wizard smiled as she recited the last few words of her spell—a spell Regdar had heard too many times in his career as a soldier. As she finished the incantation, three swirling balls of purple-blue energy appeared in her hand. She eyed them briefly, then turned her attention to Regdar, a satisfied, cocky look on her face.

“You men are all alike,” she said.

The first of the magical missiles launched from her palm and struck Regdar in the middle of the chest. He hissed air in through his gritted teeth.

“You always want a second chance,” continued the wizard. She jutted her hand out, and the second ball corkscrewed at blinding speed, slamming into Regdar’s arm.

“Oww!” Regdar shouted. He shook his hand and wrist as if he’d just hit his thumb with a builder’s hammer.

Naull paid him no mind. “Always want to talk about things after the deeds are done, as if that can take away the pain and the humiliation. Never think about how a woman might feel before you hurt her.” Naull launched the last missile.

The magical energy once again slammed Regdar and dissipated over his body, sparking and arcing across the seams in his armor.

The big fighter staggered back, off balance from the impact of Naull’s magical onslaught. “Please, Naull, I know you’re upset, but what you’re doing isn’t right. Will you please just wait a second?”

Naull raised her hands again, preparing another spell. “Wait? Like you waited for me in the City of Fire?” she screamed.

Regdar’s face flushed red. “Had I known—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” She began chanting the words of the spell.

Regdar lunged forward and grabbed Naull’s arm. He caught hold of her wrist and twisted it, turning her around and pinning her bent arm behind her back. Naull screeched like a harpy and tried to pull away. Her spell was ruined, the words of her incantation unfinished.

“Let go of me, you dim-witted troglodyte.” The petite wizard flailed, wrenching her arm back and forth as she tried to struggle free.

Regdar felt her shoulder pull tight, then pop. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Naull spun her head around and glared at the big fighter. “You’re the one holding my arm.” She let her knees collapse and screamed at the top of her lungs, “You broke it! You broke my arm!”

Naull’s cries of pain reminded Regdar of the sounds goblins make when they’re being eaten alive by spiders. He let go of her.

The wizard pulled her injured arm up against her chest and rolled onto her side in a fetal ball, where she began to sob.

Regdar looked down on her, his chest constricted with guilt. He felt like a parent who had accidentally injured a child in anger, a moment of unthinking anger that could never be retracted or made right. He bent over Naull.

“Dear Pelor,” he said. “Please, Naull, forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

Naull rolled onto her back and reached up between the big fighter’s legs. Grabbing hold of his crotch, she shouted an arcane word, and a flood of magical energy coursed out of her fingertips.

As the spell’s power flowed into the staggered fighter, Naull smiled up at him.

“Can you see your god now?” she asked. “Tell him you’ll be along shortly.”

Regdar couldn’t move. He was pinned in place by the most excruciating pain imaginable. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. He’d been told by veteran soldiers that being stabbed in the kidney was the worst, most paralyzingly painful way to kill a man, but those old warriors were wrong. The muscles of his groin twitched and constricted, felt as if they were on fire, as if they were being burned, electrocuted, and torn away by dull claws at the same time. He was sure he lost control of his bladder.

When the spell ended and the arcane pain stopped flowing, Regdar staggered backward. The pain had numbed his mind, his head buzzed with a mixture of relief and horror.

Naull rubbed her arm. It was obviously not broken. Slowly the wizard rose to her feet, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Regdar groaned. He had never really wanted to be a father, but he now felt certain that that option was no longer available to him. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head to clear the fog.