jmclarke
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Chapter 665: The Message
🕑 Added 2023-09-01 20:16:25 +0000 UTCThe church messenger rode through the night surrounded by an honour guard of Thameish soldiers. There was a fog that evening—as thick as a witch’s brew—and a full moon that cast the entire countryside in an eerie light.
Her heart pounded in her chest as gnarled branches reached from the fog, seeming like Ravener-spawn claws grasping for her throat. All she wished for was to return home and find safety by the fire.
But the message in her satchel was too important.
The Fool, apparently, had been found.
She knew no details, and even the fact that the Fool had been found had reached her ears through gossip in the lonely church.
“A Thameish boy—” she’d heard low voices whisper in the church halls. “—one that went to the city of wizards in the south.”
“Alexander Roth, apparently, was his name.”
“How did he pierce the barrier?”
“How did he escape?”
“He must be brought back.”
It was unlike the church’s priests to gossip so readily, but she was glad for it; better that she know the importance of the ‘secret’ message she carried. Now, she would not only guard it with her life, but with her very soul.
Or at least, that is what she would do…if she could bloody well see.
“We should slow down,” one of the soldiers to her back hissed, his breath misting before him. The chill of autumn was coming, and had already gripped Thameland’s nights. “We don’t want a horse throwing a shoe—or worse—breaking a leg.”
“This message is holy.” The messenger gripped her mount’s reins. “It must be delivered as quickly as we can manage.”
“But what if there are Ravener-spawn about? By riding so fast we could stumble into a pack before we—” the soldier started.
“We have to ride like demons are behind us,” the messenger insisted. “Like the Ravener itself wants our heads. Uldar will guide us.”
As they rode on, the mist seemed to get thicker and thicker until even she grew nervous.
Perhaps their pace was foolhardy?
And what was that tinkling noise off in the trees? Some sort of bell? Or something else?
The messenger’s nerves tightened and—for a moment—she considered calling for the group to slow their pace.
But suddenly, the wind picked up.
The fog around them began dispersing like salt in warm water. As one, the horses skidded to a halt, sending their riders lurching forward while gripping their reins tighter.
Mist bled away, unveiling a crossroads under the light of the full moon.
The roads in all directions were clearly visible, fog rolling through the woods, disappearing in the gloom.
“It’s the crossroads to Ussex!” a soldier cried. “The path is clear!”
“A miracle,” another murmured.
“Uldar blesses us this night,” whispered a third.
“Thank you my lord.” The messenger cast her eyes to the heavens, then bowed her head in prayer and gratitude. “I will ensure your message reaches the ones who need to hear it most.” She turned to her escort. “Let’s ride!”
Again, they started off, galloping through the moonlight, their pace even quicker than before. The road was clear of all mist, and the moon lit their way. Soon, thick forests faded to single trees and copses dotting wild fields, and then to farmland thick with wheat.
Soldiers patrolling the fields—alert for Ravener-spawn and hungry beasts roaming the night—paused to watch the party riding by.
After mounting a hill, the city’s walls were in sight, their massive gates shut tight.
“We’ve made it,” said the messenger. “Uldar be praised. Come, only a little further.”
Together, the messenger and her escort rode to the capital, praising Uldar’s mercy for lifting the fog that had shrouded their way.
###
“Ahhh, but you’re praising the wrong bearded fellow, little human,” the Stalker whispered, peering out from between stalks of wheat. “‘Twas little old me that let you get through that fog. Can’t let anything like a spot of uncooperative weather ruin the hunt’s preparations, can we?”
With a dark chuckle, he slipped back into the wilderness and the fae roads, riding ahead of the soldiers and messenger.
He was eager to see how his hounds’ schemes would play out.
###
“Blessed Uldar, you know I am a righteous man.” High Priest Tobias Jay knelt beside his bed in his opulent quarters, hands clasped before him; the old man was deep in prayer. “Of this land’s virtue you, I, and your people can be justly proud. But I ask you for guidance.”
He turned his eyes to the stained glass window depicting Uldar surrounded by Chosen of past cycles, all defending the god like the deadliest of honour guards. Many of them, along with the other Heroes, now lay beneath the cathedral, interred in eternal rest. Their images crafted in multi-hued glass in the window wore brave expressions, but Tobias—at this moment—did not share their courage.
“Holy Uldar, what can we do to rid ourselves of this plague?” he pleaded. “Over two years have passed since this cycle began, and your greatest enemy—The Ravener—has only grown more aggressive and foul with each passing moon. I am fearful that your people will have to stay away from your holy land for too long, how many lives will be lost defending it, and what will they return to when this war is finally at an end.”
He shut his eyes. “I see the soldiers’ tire and my heart breaks for them. What ill winds blow our way to make us suffer so? Can you aid us in dispelling them? I know you wanted independence in your people, but this burden will break many of your followers. I would seek to spare them the worst. Tell me, what can this old man do? What can be done?”
No sooner had he uttered those words than a disturbance came from the hallway. The sound of chainmail clinking and voices seeped through his door.
High Priest Tobias slowly pushed himself to his feet, cursing the feebleness of old age.
He called out before he even heard the knock. “Who is it?”
“It’s Cyris, my lord,” said one of his guards. “A messenger has arrived with news. They've brought a report of the highest confidentiality for your eyes only.”
Tobias glanced at the stained glass window, lit up by the light of the full moon.
He doubted this could be a coincidence.
“I will dress and be right down. Have the messenger brought to my study.”
###
High Priest Tobias Jay.
It is with utmost joy that I write to you. We have had several reports that the Fool has been found. His name is Alexander Roth, from the town of Alric and he currently is working with the Generasians in Greymoor.
The accounts showing this proof include.
— That of Mother Murphy, in the Barony of Riverwine, who heard her holy symbol sing in the forest near her church. Upon investigating, she discovered a young man searching for the Saint and a woman by the name of Carey London
— That of a ranger by the name of Arland in the west who, while accompanying a priest named Salazar—who himself is afflicted with deafness—heard the song of Salazar’s holy symbol. Upon looking up, he saw a young man matching the description of Alex Roth flying above.
More accounts were listed in the letter, mostly from priests in the wilds; each had encountered this Alex Roth and heard the song of their holy symbols. It all built a strong case.
But Tobias—despite the hope in his heart and the shaking in his hands—could not help but feel that something was questionable about what was being reported.
“This Alex Roth, what do we know of him?” Tobias’ deep voice filled his study. In the hearth, a fire burned, casting flickering shadows over the chamber. His bookcases, heavy cherrywood desk, couches and holy statuary, all took on sinister casts in that light.
The messenger sat across from him at a low table, sipping hot wine that he’d served her, while several of his closest advisors—all priests and monks of the highest wisdom—sat around them.
An older priest—a man by the name of Ralphonze—spoke first. “I do not know much of him, only that he is reportedly close with the Heroes, as was Carey London of Wrexiff, may Uldar hold her soul in rest.”
There came an abrupt cracking sound, startling everyone.
A fireplace log had split.
“And this young man.” Tobias looked away from the fire. “He casts spells. He is a wizard, is he not? If he is working with the Generasians…”
“He is a student at the university,” an old woman said. “According to what we know.”
“At the university of wizards?” Tobias asked, his brow creased.
“Precisely.”
The high priest looked sceptical. “Then we have only a series of false accusations or mistakes. This would not be the first time we have received rumours that proved to hold no truth.”
“I believe this is a sign,” Father Lee. He was by far the youngest of Tobias’ personal advisors, a man just past forty-five, yet his counsel brought some of the greatest wisdoms in all of Tobias’ private council.
The others looked at the younger man, some with fascination, some with envy.
“Speak freely, Father Lee,” Tobias encouraged him.
“Thank you, Holy One,” the younger priest lowered his head in deference. “We are meant to serve Uldar, and—in return—he speaks to us through subtle signs and through the whispers of fate and the world. In recent times, we have faced great tribulation. The Saint disappeared. There is disharmony among the Heroes. The Ravener-spawn grow ever more ravenous. Yet, now—in these dark times—we receive a ray of hope. Finally, the errant Fool has been found, and we learn this by way of trustworthy reports.”
“But what of his spells?” Ralphonze asked. “The Fool cannot cast spells; therefore he cannot be the Fool. In addition, how did he escape through the barrier?”
“Hmmm, hold now, I think I might be able to answer the latter with a theory,” said Mother Charity, looking at an immense map of Thameland on Tobias’ wall. She uttered a quick prayer to Uldar and a point of light appeared on the map. “Thank you for lighting the way, Holy Uldar. Look at the spot that Uldar’s divine miracle has illuminated. That is Alric, where this Alex Roth hails from. And that is also where we found the phenomenon in the Cave of Alric’s saint, the Traveller. Could he not have escaped through there?”
Silence followed, only broken by the crackle of fire.
“You raise a fine point, Mother Charity,” said Father Ralphonze. “But the fact still remains that the Fool cannot perform spellcraft; we know this from Uldar’s teachings and our own historical records both.”
“All the more reason to investigate,” Father Lee countered. “This cycle has been rife with strange and destructive phenomena. Absolutely rife with it. Then there is the Cave of the Traveller; a sanctum of powerful magic hidden from all of our gazes. The Fool cannot cast spells, that is true, but this cycle has witnessed a host of unprecedented events. If this Fool has crafted some way to avoid Uldar’s holy plan, then we must set it right.”
“Hmmmm,” Ralphonze said, his brow furrowed. “That seems like a waste of resources. We are already stretched to our limit. Do we have time to chase phantoms?”
“The timing of this report is noteworthy,” Mother Charity said. “In our time of need, the final Hero has been located. If Uldar’s plan is being made a mockery of, perhaps setting it right is the task we must complete for the cycle to be set right and the Ravener to be defeated.”
“It is true,” Father Lee said. “We have had no fortune in finding the enemy, and the Heroes are in disharmony. The Fool has served as both a tracker and peacemaker in cycles past. Perhaps this is what Uldar wants.”
“Might…might I have permission to speak, Holy ones?”
All eyes turned to the messenger.
“You may,” Tobias said.
“While I travelled with my escort, a fog cloaked the road,” she said. “But when we had our greatest need, the fog miraculously lifted! It must have been Uldar’s will speaking through the wind and night. Please, I think that this is all a sign of Uldar’s will. You must bring the Fool home!”
With all eyes on the messenger, none noticed Mother Charity and Father Lee exchanging a glance.
They did not notice the subtle twitches in their hands and fingers.
Tiny gestures.
Tiny gestures that communicated great meaning.
###
Author's Note
Hello THIRTY cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!
Thirty! That's so damn awesome. Y'all are the best! Welcome to a NEW month by the way!
So, I'll be away from the 10th-17th! Fool updates will be....uninterrupted as usual! Just no author's notes for that week.
Alrighty, cya tomorrow!
Comments
RudaSnitch
Clarke really knows how to write clichee characters like the church zealots, not wanting to seek the truth or any logical answer and just take everything point blank without any question as long as it involves their god. He really set the church up as a scary threat to Alex and generasi while in reality they're nothing but a distraction for when the real threat in form of Fae comes to play, trully worthy of the hounds.
RudaSnitch
Hannah's power isn't divine power, and we saw the limit, it's teleporting others, those that have strong mental capability can resist the teleportation like we saw in a fight between generasi and hidden church branch when Alex tried to teleport second apostole.
The Grand Moose
So we're seeing a cap in Alex's magical abilities w/ the Mark. His physical ones have been reached through the blood magic, but are useless with the Mark. Im curious if we'll see some hard cap with Hannah's power (since fool's shouldnt hold divine power either). And if we do see that cap, id think that is probably one of the last remaining things before we see him fix the Mark.
