Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [40]
“Liar!” shouted Kelryn, terrified of his own audacity, yet knowing that he could not allow the verbal onslaught to continue. He didn’t want to fight, not here, not under these circumstances. Still, he wished that he were wearing his sword, and he resolved to defend himself with the small dagger he wore under his robe if the officer’s affronts became even more direct.
Instead of attacking, however, the officer half turned, a sardonic smile upon his lips. He gestured to one of the refugees nearby, a child whose right arm dangled limply in a bloodstained sung. “Come here, lad. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”
Wonderingly the boy came forward. Kelryn could not tear his eyes away as the warrior knelt, pulled off his gauntlets, and extended a gentle hand toward the gory cloth. “Know, my son, that there is a goddess who is real and who cares for you.”
The man’s voice rose as he swept his gaze over the whole throng. “Hear me, all! The Queen of Darkness, Takhisis herself, commands your obedience. But know that she offers rewards, riches, and power in return!”
The warrior touched the injured arm. The boy stood still, trembling, as the man ducked his head. “Listen to my prayers, Dark Lady who is my mistress and soon shall be queen of all the world. This child is innocent; he has done you no wrong. I beseech you, grant me the power to heal his flesh, to make him well that he may serve us, might bring further glory to your name.”
“It-it doesn’t hurt anymore,” stammered the youth, looking with wonder at his arm.
“Take off the bandage.” The officer’s voice remained gentle, soothing.
Quickly the boy tore at the filthy cloth, casting it aside and raising his arm in the air. A joyful voice cried from the crowd and a woman rushed forward, sweeping the boy into her arms. “He is healed! Yesterday he was certain to lose his arm, and now the wound is gone!”
A gasp rose from the throng, and people, awestruck and wondering, shuffled forward to see this proof of godhood.
“I tell you today of our queen’s might and her mercy,” proclaimed the officer, rising to his feet, speaking in a voice that resounded from the high temple walls. “There are more priests waiting to soothe your hurts, to teach you the lightness of our new faith. All who would open your ears to the truth, go to the great square of Haven, and there you will learn the ways of the true gods!”
Those people closest to the gate were already leaving at a run. With a restive murmur, a sound that grew into a low cheer, the rest of the crowd seemed to understand the command, embrace the hope it offered. Kelryn stood still, seething, watching the sardonic smile play across the dragonrider’s face as the congregation, the refugees, even many of the Faithguards fled the temple in the face of this miracle. Only when the last of the once loyal followers had departed the gates did the man turn back, regarding Kelryn as if the high priest were a mere afterthought.
“You are an affront to true faith,” barked the officer. “You deserve only death!”
Kelryn Darewind felt the hot pulse against his chest and pulled the bloodstone of Fistandanrilus forth with a sudden, instinctive gesture. The officer stared at the stone a moment, blinking as his stern expression grew soft and vague.
“Lord Verminaard will use your temple compound as his headquarters.” The man shook his head, visibly struggling to gain control of his thoughts and words. “You have one hour to gather your belongings and leave. If the highlord finds you here upon his arrival, you may expect to die-very slowly.”
Kelryn made no reply. He saw the few of his Faith-guards who still remained, those who had been the most loyal of his followers, watching him questioningly. Unconsciously he touched the bloodstone, once again secure under his robe.
“I carry all my needs with me,” he said grimly. With a curt gesture, he summoned his remaining men-no more than a dozen-to his side. They fell into step behind him as he stalked through the gates, past the company of leering