T Lain: The Bloody Eye

Then, as he had done uncountable times since his own eye was removed, Calmet pledged to avenge himself on Laud by all the horrific resources of Gruumsh’s greatness. He placed his seething soul on simmer with this continuing resolution and reminded himself that his subservience to Laud was only a matter of time.

The archprelate motioned toward a mirrored plate forming the pupil of an unblinking eye etched in the center of the chamber’s floor, the unholy symbol of Gruumsh. Calmet carried the bloody eye from the sacrifice to the mirror and let some of the blood drop onto the shiny surface. The archprelate muttered a gutteral incantation that seemed to echo from the underworld itself. As during the sacrifice, Calmet saw another small figure in the mirrored surface. This time, however, the figure was not an inverted image of himself This figure was a priest of Pelor riding along a trail. Calmet couldn’t help but exude a renewed sense of confidence upon viewing his pursuer.

“So, Pelor sends my old student to recover his gold? Well, Jozan could never learn his language lessons. Maybe he’ll learn this one.”

Calmet motioned for one of his acolytes to bring the small pig to him. He nodded toward the mirrored surface and the helper placed the squirming animal on the unholy symbol. Again, Calmet stabbed with the silver dagger. Human eye and porcine eye mingled together in a bloody froth and a stream of blood splashed upon the mirror as a libation offering.

“Learn this lesson well, Jozan!” he muttered. “Gruumsh knows nothing of grace. If you cannot taste his power, you will feel his wrath!”

“Calmet!” cursed Jozan as the one-eyed boar charged.

Since the young priest started tracking his former tutor, one-eyed monstrosities kept appearing, and with increasing frequency. Jozan used the apostate priest’s name as his epithet of choice, so it leaped quickly to the young priest’s lips as the half-blind beast gored his mount. He knew he should have been more alert, but the beast’s gray fur provided deadly camouflage while it lay in ambush within the low-lying mist and underbrush along the trail.

Blood spewed and muscles tore as the filthy tusks ripped across the mare’s chest. The little horse shuddered from the blow and Jozan performed a minor miracle by dismounting before the mare counterattacked. She reared and screamed the tubercular wheeze common to her kind, intending to smash her tormentor with her front hooves. Pain tearing through her belly destroyed her aim so that the valiant effort looked more like a stumble than an attack. Fortunately, it gave Jozan enough time to draw his mace. He advanced as the mare limped away. The boar misjudged the horse’s position as it slung its head in another attack.

Jozan stepped behind the boar so that the beast was between himself and the retreating mare. He swung the mace in a well-aimed arc, but watched the weapon graze the quick-stepping boar’s thick fur harmlessly. The animal pinwheeled in an attempt to skewer the cleric, but Jozan was quick, too. He stepped back, dropped his mace, and ripped a small bag off his belt. The boar’s one good eye fairly glowed with a malevolent hatred and the empty socket made Jozan feel queasy and uncomfortable. Pulling a candle from the bag, he intoned a psalm to Pelor as Creator and envisioned two large hounds on each flank of the boar.

The boar snorted and charged, but Jozan sidestepped without missing a word of the summoning ritual or even compromising a sacred gesture. As smoothly as if he were speaking the sacred prayer at a dawn mass, he watched the words come to life. Alluvial-shaped lightning danced on the flanks of the boar and two celestial hounds appeared, lightning and thunder announcing their presence. Jozan immediately dropped the bag and candle and retrieved his mace as the boar charged half-heartedly. The priest gave thanks for the confusion provided by the two new and otherworldly scents.

This time, Jozan’s mace smashed across the snout of the boar. The familiar vibration assured the priest it was a solid blow. The enraged boar did not turn aside, however, and its tusk struck glancingly against Jozan’s armor. Then the beast learned the threat posed by the two newcomers. Both of the golden haired dogs snarled and bit at the boar, tearing away fur and blood but not distracting it as Jozan had hoped. Celestial hounds or not, the angry boar focused its single eye on Jozan and Jozan alone. When the cleric’s mace scraped across the animal’s matted hide, the beast retaliated so fiercely that one of its tusks wedged between pieces of the cleric’s leg armor. Jozan felt the flesh tear and knew his fresh blood would only arouse the beast more.

With measured relief, Jozan saw one of the summoned hounds rip past the boar’s hide. Canine fangs opened a portion of his foe’s neck as cleanly as would a butcher’s knife. Still the boar did not let up. Even with the second hound pestering it, Jozan felt the wedged tusk gouge deeper, causing his knee to give way. The man crumpled to the ground. In desperation he swung the mace and it smashed through the boar’s skull, driving shards of shattered bone deep into the primitive brain.

Even that terrific wound would not stop the boar. Blinded by pain, spattering blood and gray matter with every shake of its massive head, the beast fought on with a perverse, unearthly ferociousness.

The hounds pounced again. Their fangs slashed into the boar’s ribs and neck, opening new wounds and clamping down on bone and muscle. Still, the boar thrashed on. In spite of his awkward position and damaged leg, Jozan’s mace struck again, crunching sideways through the jaw to splatter brains and tusks against a nearby tree trunk. The deadly beast tumbled onto its side from the force of the blow. Jozan watched the carcass shiver with the last tremors of life and he exhaled heavily in relief. He lay on his back for several moments more until his celestial allies shimmered and returned to their home dimension.

“Calmet!” he cursed, telling himself that if it hadn’t been for that foul apostate, the pain would not be searing his thigh and he wouldn’t be on this reckless quest. “How am I supposed to face an evil priest who knows everything I know and more?”

In anguish he removed his armor and gingerly massaged the wound. Jozan breathed a prayer for healing. He even uttered an obligatory hope for Calmet’s redemption, though he sincerely doubted its likelihood. A glow mirroring the beams of the sun shone from the young priest’s hands and pulsed around the wound. The entire thigh glowed with the healing radiance of Pelor as Jozan breathed a psalm of gratitude.

He knew there was no chance of catching the mare. She would still be running in fear, her blood and panic making her a tempting target for wolves and other scavengers. He couldn’t help her. Worse, he couldn’t help himself very much. He had his weapons and a few pouches at his belt, but most of his equipment was in the pack strapped to the mare’s rump. Here he was without gold, bedroll potions, scrolls, or even his flint and steel.

With few other options, Jozan struck out on foot, a painful sting in his thigh reminding him that he needed more healing before continuing his quest. To date he’d found no specific evidence of Calmet’s location, but he know that the enemy was aware of his pursuit. Everywhere the cleric turned, he faced one-eyed monsters. They could only be coming from him.

Jozan plodded onward, hoping beyond hope to see signs of the little mare, or even bits of scattered equipment or a lost saddlebag. But the horse undoubtedly had plowed through the forest. The man needed to keep to the trail in hope of finding a settlement. The ache in his thigh grew worse with each furlong.

Fired by his imagination, the young priest trudged along the trail until he caught a glimpse of a temple. At least, he thought it was a temple. It was so dilapidated that Jozan thought for a moment it might be a barn.