Saintslayer (Lucifae Carver, Antipriestess of Light Book 1) Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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Lucifae was dreaming again. She was falling from a great height down towards an endless, dark sea. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to utter an antiprayer, terrified that this was not her tortuous yet familiar midday dream.

Splash. Water rushed into her mouth and down her lungs. She was underwater. Unable to breathe. Sinking.

“No, this is a dream,”she thought and opened her eyes. The dream was still there. She was drowning.

A pair of eyes, furious and impossibly large, opened underneath. She could feel the will of the god of the sea bearing its impossible weight against her very soul.

“I renounce you, Okeanos, false god of the deep!” she thought, opposing the god’s will with her own, as she swam away from the eyes. There was no surface. Only water and the eyes that stared in wrathful silence.

“I renounce you. My soul is beyond your grasp,” she thought with conviction and heard her own voice mumbling the words. She opened her eyes inside her tiny cell.

********

Groggily, Lucifae sat up on her bed and made her antiprayers. She was still tired from last night’s ordeal and had only slept a few precious hours. The inquisitors had interrogated her inside the circle of truth until the break of dawn, trying to find the tiniest trace of belief in the warring goddess of the sun. She was then ordered to remain in her cell and pray against the gods.

She finished her antiprayers and ate her humble bread in silence. As the evening bell struck, she thought she saw a tiny creature — a crab perhaps? — skitter towards the door of her cell at the edge of her vision. When she turned around it was gone.

She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and stood up. A few minutes later she exited her cell. The Grey Cathedral was busier than usual. Clerics, aspirants, paladins, and squires hurried up and down the long halls. The Antihierarch’s voice echoed his defiance against the gods in the evening liturgy from the main temple below.

Lucifae entered a guarded wing of the sprawling cathedral complex and walked up an ancient flight of stairs to reach a large oaken door.

She knocked.

“Enter,” a stern voice invited her in.

Lucifae pushed the heavy wooden door open and entered. Inside, she could see the familiar figure of Mother Bitterdawn standing on her balcony. She was the Elder Antipriestess of Light, Lucifae’s superior. In front of her, the last glimpses of twilight faded in the west, where the prismatic desert gave way to wild shrubland.

Mother Bitterdawn turned sharply towards Lucifae. “May the gods fall, my daughter,” she said, looking her up and down.

“And may we walk free once more, Mother,” she replied without hesitation, keeping her eyes on the stone floor.

“I will be brief,” the elder antipriestess said and Lucifae nodded. “In their folly, the false gods seek to destroy what’s left of our city and topple our cathedral. Divine machinations are at work, and nobody is above suspicion.” She walked closer.

Reluctantly, Lucifae lifted her gaze. She had seen Mother Bitterdawn’s stern face and heard her equally stern sermons almost every day since she arrived at the Grey Cathedral sixteen years ago. She could see worry in her eyes today.

“Last night, your first night alone, you challenged the false god of the sea and defied the false goddess of the sun, using the very magic she claims as her own.”

“I… I had to protect an innocent person. I only followed your guidance and the teachings of the dysangelists.”

Mother Bitterdawn shook her head and took a deep breath. “I do not doubt your good intentions, and you did well to defy Pelia.” She spoke the name of the goddess as if it were the vilest curse. “But the gods manipulate the weak-willed into furthering their vile plans, as the scriptures warn us.”

Lucifae pressed her lips together and nodded again.

“That is why, instead of placing you in isolation until Pelia’s anger subsides, I am assigning you an active role in the upcoming purge.”

Lucifae’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak.

Mother Bitterdawn raised her hand, silencing her. “Lethimus teaches us to burn the weeds of the false gods before they take root, and that is what we are going to do. Tonight, several purge teams will scour the city for the heretics who have been calling to the false gods. I have personally requested that you join one of these teams. Paladins and militia guards are already gathering at the cathedral. They shall depart after the evening liturgy is concluded. Father Ravoam is divining the possible outcomes of the purge as we speak. You will be assigned a team soon,” she said, eyeing Lucifae up and down again. “Do you have anything to say before you take your leave, my daughter?”

Lucifae nodded. “Tonight, the god of the deep sent me a dream vision, and I think I saw a small crab in my cell at the strike of the evening bell.”

“Signs of Okeanos’ displeasure. No need to report these to the inquisitors now and waste the whole night confessing again.” She gave Lucifae a meaningful look. “You can do so after you return. Now go. The city, or what is left of it, needs the defiance of young theomachists like you.” Mother Bitterdawn pointed at the door.

“In their infiniteness, the gods are puny,” Lucifae quoted the scriptures and bowed out of Mother Bitterdawn’s office. She walked down the stairs all the way down to the main temple, where cantors were now chanting a passage from the dysangelion of Krotius about outsmarting faithful heretics. She walked through the southern ambulatory to one of the side chapels, the Parecclesion of Clarity.

“May the gods fall, young antipriestess,” a paladin of the Pure Mind said as Lucifae approached. He guarded the chapel’s entrance, a head taller than Lucifae. Candlelight reflected on his polished armor. As she stood in front of him, she could see her reflection in his gleaming breastplate.

“And may we walk free once more, noble paladin. I seek audience with the Elder Diviner Antipriest.”

The paladin nodded his helmed head up and down. “You may pass.”

She slipped behind him into the chapel. Inside, Lucifae could see a gaunt figure kneeled in antiprayer in front of an altar made from the same grey stone as most of the cathedral. A sanctuary lamp bathed the altar and the elder in cold, white light from above.

She waited in silence. The faces of heroes from ages past stared though murals in the shadows.

“Antipriestess Carver, how many days are in your calendar?” Father Ravoam asked after a while, still kneeling and eyes closed. Lucifae knew he had not seen her, yet he knew she was there.

“Father Ravoam, there are two days in my calendar: this day, and the day the gods are defeated,” she replied with Dysangelist Krotius’ famous quote.

He stood up and opened his eyes. They were milk-white, yet he could see. Lucifae had heard the rumors that this is what happens to the eyes of diviners after decades of gleaning the truths hidden by the gods. A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Dare I guess the purpose of your visit?”

“I am here to make a humble request, Father.”

He nodded slowly. “The servants of the warring gods encroach upon us. The sea has withdrawn again, leaving behind revenants, animated by the warring god of the deep and a monstrous crustacean that lurks in the ruins around Harbortown. You fought Okeanos’ revenants yesternight. Tonight, your superior, in her wisdom, has ordered you to go out and prove your theomachic conviction once more. You did not come to me to escape this destiny, but you are here hoping to influence it.”

“The Elder Diviner Antipriest is right. I would like to join a militia guard patrol in tonight’s purge,” she said as coldly as she could, though her heart was pounding.

“Given your inexperience and last night’s events, I have assigned you to a paladin patrol,” Father Ravoam said as he bent over a stack of scrolls on the altar. “But I have the authority to change that, if you insist.”

“I respectfully and humbly do,” she said and felt her cheeks burning.

“You are blushing, antipriestess.”

“I… it’s nothing,” she said and remained silent for a long moment.

“Well, antipriestess?”

“I… I would like to accompany Sergeant Taran Dener of the Marketown Irregulars, assuming he will be in one of the patrols.”

“Interesting…” Father Ravoam shuffled through one, two, three scrolls. “There,” he said and unrolled the third scroll on the altar. He picked up a quill with his left hand and struck out a name from the scroll. Then he proceeded to add two entries on it. “It is done. I am not one to stand in the way of love, even if it is between a half-elf girl of the cathedral and a human boy from the ruins,” he said and chuckled.

“Oh no!” She furiously shook her head left and right. “It’s not like that, I assure you, Father!”

“Even the Elder Diviner Antipriest may be wrong, but I rarely am in such matters,” he said, raising one thick eyebrow.

Lucifae just nodded and kept her eyes on the ancient heroes in the murals, hoping to be dismissed as fast as possible. Yet the elder continued: “As long as there is defiance, there is a way, antipriestess. I have honored your request, and now you will honor mine in return.”

Lucifae swallowed hard and nodded. “I… of course. I had not expected that, but I will do my best to rise to the occasion.”

“Worry not,” he said, staring her with his white eyes. “My request is neither irrational, nor dangerous. Along with Sergeant Dener, I also assigned one of my apprentices to go with you tonight. You can share the burden of your common inexperience. Take care of him. That is my request.”

Lucifae tried to guess which apprentice Father Ravoam was referring to. Having lived in the Grey Cathedral for most of her life she knew everyone younger than her, at least by name. “We carry each other’s burdens, and in this way we need no gods.” She quoted Dysangelist Martana instead of trying to sate her curiosity.

Father Ravoam smiled. “You quote the scriptures well.”

Lucifae looked down and smiled shyly.

“Go forth and worry not about tonight, antipriestess. I have seen death in my visions, death before the sun rises again, but you are not among those who perish,” he said as calmly as usual. Suddenly, Lucifae didn’t feel like smiling anymore.

She bowed and left the Parecclesion of Clarity just as the Antihierarch delivered the final renunciations against the gods, marking the end of the evening liturgy.

Her heart raced as she rushed to her cell to get ready. She donned her armor, made a short antiprayer on her ceremonial hammer, grabbed a bite of humble bread, and tried to comb her hair in the reflection of her water bowl. Her curls proved too unruly to be tamed, so she just drank the water and left.

A few minutes later, she had grabbed her patrol’s orders from the inquisitors on duty and arrived at today’s active side gate of the Grey Cathedral. A cold wind blew from the west and the sky was clear. The moon, almost full but not quite yet, reflected on the helmets and weapons of militia guards who were gathering in Defiance Square. Unlike the paladins of the Pure Mind who were exiting the cathedral after the evening liturgy in their polished panoplies, militia guards had no uniform. Lucifae could tell their affiliation and their rank only by the blue and purple scraps of cloth, remnants of old city guard uniforms, symbolically attached to their old weapons and mismatched, weathered pieces armor.

Three paladins in front of her were tangled in a debate about their oaths and the teachings of Lethimus, the first dysangelist. Unwilling to get involved in a theomachic debate, she remained behind them and stood on her toes, trying to spot Taran in the crowd.

“Antipriestess Carver?” A man’s voice said and her heartbeat quickened as she turned around. It was Taran, along with a few other guards who talked loudly as they walked out of the cathedral.

Her eyes met his for a brief moment before darting to the side. “Good evening,” she said, unsure he could be able to hear her over the voices of his companions.

“Stay safe, Sergeant,” a female officer and probably Taran’s superior said and nodded sharply before walking past Lucifae without even glancing at her.

A muscular guard, more than a head taller than Taran and with a greyish skin tone that betrayed some distant orcish ancestry, patted him on the shoulder with enough force to make his breastplate rattle. “Better leave you to your ‘special’ business, eh?” He chuckled and gave Lucifae a meaningful look as he passed her by. He kept chuckling as he squeezed through the paladins of the Pure Mind ahead, making Lucifae nervous.

“So, this is our priestess?” a tall female guard asked Taran, eyeing Lucifae up and down. Lucifae looked at her briefly and nodded. Her skin was dark as bread crust, and Lucifae couldn’t tell if it was her original skin color or if she had been walking under the relentless sun of Prisma Desert. Her helmet had a hole through which a thick, black mane cascaded over her shoulder pads.

“She’s an antipriestess,” Taran said and his eyes darted at Lucifae. “Antipriestess Lucy Carver… hello.”

“Whatever,” the woman said and shrugged. “Looks cute. I hope she’s useful as well. Hey, cutie. I’m Kala. Nice to meet you.” She patted Lucifae on her arm. The physical contact made her feel somewhat uneasy.

“May the gods fall,” Lucifae said and bowed her head at Kala and Taran in turn.

“And may we walk free once more, girl!” Kala replied with enthusiasm Lucifae found encouraging.

Taran briefly glanced at Lucy and then looked over his shoulder at a group of paladins and senior clerics in full battle gear that approached. “Orders say we’re a four-person patrol, so let’s step aside as we wait for that fourth person.”

Lucifae nodded and moved to the side, next to a statue of Saintslayer Vanurethis, one of the first theomachist paladins, which pointed its sword at whatever threat stood outside the ancient gates of the cathedral.

They stood there for a while as paladins, clerics, and guards left the cathedral to hunt faithful heretics in the ruins of Whitebay.

Kala was getting restless as the night deepened. “I bet we’re waiting for a cleric. You know the saying, that clerics are always late, right?”

“Lucy — I mean Antipriestess Carver, wasn’t,” Taran said, braving a brief smile at Lucifae.

“An exception, yeah, or maybe she had a reason to be on time, eh?” Kala elbowed Taran and chuckled.

Taran cleared his throat and looked Lucifae straight in the eye. “So, how was the milk and biscuits?”

She smiled and then gasped. “Oh! I am so sorry! Yes, the milk and biscuits were delicious, but I must apologize because I… I have misplaced your basket...” She looked down.

“You lost it? No worries,” he said, giving her encouraging smile. “One of my cousins in Harbortown can weave five baskets a day, so…” his voice trailed off and shot a glance at Kala who seemed to be enjoying the conversation between him and Lucifae.

“I… I kind of burned it…” Lucifae said, feeling her cheeks turning red. “If you allow me to atone for this, I will get you a new basket…”

Kala lifted an eyebrow. “Burned it? This sounds like a fun story!”

“It… it is not. I had an encounter with revenants cursed by the god of the sea last night,” she said somberly. “I had to channel the Eternal Light against them.”

“Badass!” Tara exclaimed and nodded approvingly before patting her on the shoulder so hard that Lucifae feared it might leave a bruise.

Taran stared at Lucifae, and she couldn’t tell if it was worry, disproval, awe, or a mix of the three. She felt embarrassed and looked away. Her eyes fell on a young human boy, no more than twelve years old, who was approaching her with long strides. He wore the robes of an apprentice diviner and a serious expression on his face. Despite his growth spurt, Lucifae recognized him right before he spoke.

“Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of theomachy!” The young boy quoted Dysangelist Lethimus’ scripture with excessive aplomb and made an exaggerated sign of the theomachic X across his chest.

“Alric!” Lucifae exclaimed the boy’s name. Taran eyed the boy up and down, and Kala chuckled.

“Elder Diviner Antipriest Father Ravoam has tasked me to aid you in purging the city of faithful heretics and godly monstrosities,” he said solemnly, bowing at Lucifae, Kala, and Taran in turn.

“There is no need to be so formal. You’re late and we have a long patrol ahead of us,” Lucifae said.

Alric cleared his throat. “Dysangelist Krotius wrote: ‘I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours renouncing the gods.’ I followed his example,” Alric said with a smirk on his face.

“You can’t quote yourself out of being late, Alric,” Lucifae said.

The boy chuckled. “You sound like the Elder Librarian!”

“No, you sound like the Elder Librarian with all that excessive quoting,” Lucifae chuckled as well and poked him on the shoulder.

“You better be careful, Lucy. I’ve been studying the Acts of the Godbangers so much that I may be able to out-quote you now!”

“They are called the ‘Acts of the Theomachists’ and it’s not proper to refer to the first paladin order by that name!”

“What name?”

“You know what name!”

“Godbangers?”

“Yes, do not use that term. It’s disrespectful!”

“But they call themselves that!”

“I am sure they don’t.”

“Yes they do! I heard an orc godbanger calling himself that yesterday!”

“No you did not, Alric.”

“Yes I did, Lucy! I am not lying! He was huge and wore purple armor and shouted a lot!”

Kala rolled her eyes. “Enough of this. Let’s go, you can catch up about the godbangers and whatnot while we’re hunting heretics,” she said and led the way out of the cathedral.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ve got your back,” Taran said and patted Alric on the shoulder. His eyes quickly darted towards Lucifae and she smiled at him, thinking he might had been looking for a sign of approval.

Lucifae nodded and did not press the issue any further. She focused on the route her superiors assigned them for the purge. Using her magic, she lit up the way for her human companions to traverse the ruins.

After a few hours, she had lost count of the tents, hovels, and partially collapsed buildings they had inspected. Most of them were empty. In a few of them, small groups of survivors, some of them mutated, huddled together. Lucifae had asked all of them politely to renounce the gods, and they had complied. There were no signs of worship in the ruined buildings they called home.

It was past midnight and they had reached an abandoned part of the city east of Harbortown, where the prismatic sand of the desert was slowly eating away the ruins one pebble at a time. Across a burned down park whose name Lucifae didn’t know, behind a dry fountain with a statue of a mermaid that had lost her head many years ago, the moonlight shone on a hollowed out, domed building. It was cracked in two but still standing, alone amidst structures that had been reduced to rubble. Lucifae thought that with a bit of imagination, it looked like a broken seashell.

“I know of this place,” Taran said. “It used to be a… tavern before the fall of the city, the Mighty Shell, or something like that.”

“A brothel, I bet,” Kala said. “Let’s explore it.”

Lucifae flinched as Kala’s words brought to mind the few childhood memories she had of her mother. She shook her head. No time to remember her life before Whitebay and the theomachy that destroyed it.

Alric just giggled at the mention of the word ‘brothel’.

“Something is not right,” Lucifae said, focusing her senses on the present. “There are no tents around this building, and I can’t see any trash heaps either. But, it is in too good a condition to be abandoned.”

“Maybe people don’t want to live next to the desert, eh?” Kala said. “We’ll know sooner or later. If it’s totally empty, you, antipriestess, are my witness that I’m claiming it as mine for when we rebuild the city!”

“Understood.” Lucifae nodded and braved a tiny smile at Kala.

“We better be careful anyway. No regular militia patrol ever comes here,” Taran said and took hold of his spear with both hands.

Kala unsheathed her sword and moved towards the domed building.

Lucifae gave Alric a meaningful look and said a short antiprayer from the dysangelion of Martana, the second dysangelist. “We carry each other’s burdens, and in this way we need no gods.”

Alric repeated the antiprayer with a somber look on his face while shifting nervously from foot to foot. He clutched the handle of his ceremonial mace with both hands and his eyes darted towards the dark building.

Lucifae patted him on the back. “It’s going to be alright,” she said both to him and her own self. She lifted her hand in front of her, and with just a thought, she created a mote of light in her palm.

“Hey, is anybody here?” Kala shouted as she approached the crack that split the building in two. Her voice echoed inside.

No reply.

Lucifae’s magic shed light inside the building as she stepped through the crack next to Taran. A partially collapsed corridor lay in front of them. It was blocked by rubble on one side.

They followed the other side to a tall chamber that seemed surprisingly intact. The cracked dome let moonlight slip inside, illuminating rows of rotting wooden seats on one side and low balconies surrounding what seemed to be a stage in the middle. In the back end of the stage, Lucifae could make out a makeshift altar and behind it a pile of rubble one could use to climb up to the balconies. Two stone columns, perhaps wrought by magic long ago, rose from the ground on either side to hold the cracked dome in place.

“There!” Taran pointed at the balconies. Something had moved in the shadows.

“May the gods fall,” Lucifae declared and clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling.

“M-may the gods fall…” Alric said, his voice trailing off.

“Come out and renounce the gods!” Kala shouted. “We’re —”

Something flashed in the shadows above the altar. Kala yelled in pain as a throwing dagger hit her in the chest, tearing a hole through her leather breastplate to draw blood. She staggered and fell to one knee.

“Take cover!” Taran shouted and shoved Alric behind the nearest stone column.

Another dagger whizzed past Taran, clinking on the stone behind him.

Lucifae rushed to Kala. She placed her shield between them and the balcony, and gently touched Kala’s neck with her free hand. “We carry each other’s burdens, and in this way we need no gods,” she whispered as she let the Eternal Light flow through her, gently directing it to heal Kala’s wound and restore her life force. A dagger clanked against Lucifae’s shield.

Reinvigorated, Kala assumed a defensive pose and sprung up. “Bring it on,” she shouted and banged her sword against her raised shield.

“There are at least two of them. One is up there!” Taran said and rushed towards the pile of rubble that led up to the balconies. Kala followed, an angry look in her eyes.

“More will come to feast on your meat, town boy!” a raspy woman’s voice said from the balcony dead ahead, and Lucifae saw the flash of another dagger about to be flung. Without hesitation, she raised her hand in antiprayer and channeled a flicker of the Eternal Light towards the assailant, a woman with surprisingly bushy hair and a mad look on her face. The woman shirked as Lucifae’s radiant magic blinded her long enough for Taran to stab her foot with his spear and tackle her to the ground. He punched her face against the stone and she didn’t move anymore. Lucifae flinched at the sight of blood and the thought that they might have killed the bushy-haired woman.

A boyish yelp from behind the pillar brought Lucifae back to the present. “Alric!” she shouted.

Kala turned around towards Alric’s yelp long enough for a man covered in what seemed like dried blood to spring up from the rubble behind her. She yelled in pain as he slashed her back with a rusty, curved sword.

Lucifae shot a glance at Kala as Taran was about to throw his spear at the blood-stained ambusher and she rushed at Alric. The young apprentice was using the pillar as cover, running half circles around it. At the opposite side, Lucifae could see a large, muscular man with two short swords trying to catch Alric. He lunged at Alric from one side of the pillar, and the young apprentice ran to the other side, again and again. The man wore a mask made of human skin that made Lucifae sick in the stomach.

As she lifted her hand in antiprayer, her own mote of magic light spoke in a familiar yet unwelcome voice: “YES, CHILD. THESE CANNIBALS DO NOT DESERVE TO BREATHE IN YOUR PRESENCE. EMBRACE MY POWER AND STRIKE THEM DOWN. ALL YOUR SINS SHALL BE FORGIVEN. PAY YOUR DUES!”

“And whenever you stand praying, condemn the gods and forgive their victims, if you have anything against anyone, so that the real enemy is revealed!” Lucifae shouted a verse from the dysangelion of Lethimus and guided the mote of light from her palm towards the cannibal’s face. Its brightness intensified as it attached itself on his human skin mask, blinding him long enough for Alric to swing his mace at the cannibal’s legs. Lucifae heard a painful crack as Alric’s mace hit the man’s left tibia.

Alric dashed next to Lucifae. Holding his now-bloodied mace in his trembling hands.

“YOU CANNOT DENY ME! BEHOLD MY POWER!” Pelia’s anger ringed in Lucifae’s head. Sunlight rained from the crack in the ceiling, bathing the cannibal in radiant flame that eclipsed Lucifae’s tiny mote. His ragged clothes and grotesque mask withered in the fire that engulfed him.

Alric stared in disbelief at the man’s transformation. Lucifae stepped backwards and pulled Alric with her, feeling horrified. Despite her predicament, she braved a glance at Taran and Kala, and seeing them both standing, she felt a glimmer of hope.

The cannibal in front of her opened his mouth to scream, but only sunlight came out. His eyes exploded and the empty sockets blazed with sunfire.

Pelia’s voice echoed from within the cannibal’s flaming husk. “YOU FUMBLE IN THE DARK WHILE MY ENEMY HAS CREPT INSIDE YOUR BLASPHEMOUS CHURCH. EMBRACE MY LIGHT AND —”

A twang from Alric’s small crossbow made Lucifae flinch. The bolt pierced the husk’s neck and caught fire.

“— OBEY MY WILL!” Instead of blood, sunfire burst out from the wound and lashed at Alric, setting his crossbow ablaze.

The young boy yelled in pain and dropped his crossbow, his hands burned and blistered.

Lucifae bit her lip and took a deep breath. There was no turning back. “Behold. I have come to defy your will,” she quoted Dysangelist Lethimus again as she let her shield hit the ground and raised both hands towards the cannibal’s husk. She knew there was no escape from the warring gods. She had to fight once more.

The husk stumbled forward, setting rotting wood around it in flames. Lucifae stood her ground and declared the renunciation against Pelia: “I renounce you, Pelia, false goddess of light. May you be cast in eternal darkness.”

The radiant flames that had engulfed the blazing husk intensified as she channeled the Eternal Light through her body towards it. She felt the heat almost unbearable on her face, but did not waver. The rotting seats behind her caught fire.

“MY LIGHT SHALL DROWN YOUR PUNY FLICKER!” Pelia said through the husk. Sunfire seeped through cracks on its charred flesh as it took another stumble towards Lucifae.

“The Eternal Light has no master!” Lucifae cried out as she forced all the magic she could muster into the husk.

Its chest expanded, unable to contain the combined magic of Pelia and Lucifae. Its body began crumbling into ash and the fiery magic burst forth from its chest in an explosion of radiance.

“Lucy!” Alric yelled and lifted Lucifae’s own shield between the exploding corpse and both their bodies.

She hugged the young boy behind the shield and uttered a protective antiprayer, fearing it would be her last.

For a moment, all she could see was light, even with her eyes closed. Then darkness returned, almost welcome, and she felt someone jolting her.

“Lucy? Lucy! Are you alright?”

She opened her eyes and saw Taran’s face over her. He looked worried and dusty, but otherwise healthy.

“I… Yes…” She stood up and looked around.

Alric was sitting up next to her, biting his lip and trying his best not to cry as he uttered an antiprayer of healing for his bleeding, burned and blistered hands. Kala was leaning against one of the columns with a pained expression on her face, her armor torn and bloodied in the back.

Lucifae’s legs trembled as she stood up. She leaned over Alric. “Thank you,” she said and patted his head. The young boy looked up and Lucifae spoke an antiprayer to alleviate his pain: “It is better to take refuge in your fellow mortals than to trust in a god...”

She walked to Kala and did the same, whispering the antiprayer to heal Kala with a tired sigh. Lucifae felt lightheaded and realized that her magic was almost completely spent for the night.

Taran helped Alric stand up. The young apprentice looked down at his hands. His and Lucifae’s magic had stopped the bleeding, but they were badly burned.

“I am spent and both of you require proper healing. We have to return to the cathedral,” Lucifae said and bent down to pick up her shield.

“Thanks, this was…” Kala was out of words, so she just patted Lucifae on the shoulder. It felt weaker, this time round.

Taran nodded. “These people were probably heretics. What happened with this cannibal was… I don’t know what to say...”

“Lucy…” Alric said between sobs as he stood up. “Can you help me strap my mace back, please?”

Lucifae picked up Alric’s mace and hanged it back on a strap on his belt. She took a deep breath and walked across the chamber towards the bloodied body of the man who had ambushed Kala. She leaned down, and seeing he wasn’t breathing, she whispered a funerary antiprayer: “The long sleep is upon you. Embrace the fate of all flesh knowing that we continue to fight the false gods.”

Taran walked towards her. “He is dead, but the woman I knocked out escaped during the… during whatever happened to that one,” he said, pointing at the pile of ash that used to be the cannibal.

Lucifae nodded and walked towards the middle of the chamber. On the altar, she saw a pile of soggy documents bound by fresh leather. Most of the text was faded, but someone had written over it in blood. She flinched as she saw hand-scrawled divine markings, the symbols of Okeanos, the god of the sea, and Gorg, the god of war, on the paper. She closed her eyes and let out an audible grunt as she squeezed the last bit of her magic to burn the profane documents and the symbols of the gods in a flash.

“Now we must return,” she said breathlessly, feeling too exhausted to contemplate what she had just done.

They marched straight back to the Grey Cathedral. Alric was too tired and hurt for small talk, and Kala grunted in pain as she walked. Taran shot glances at Lucifae, and she couldn’t tell if he was worried, terrified, or a mix of both. She just looked forward and pushed on.

As the Grey Cathedral came into view behind the ruins of a once-magnificent castle, Lucifae knew that something was seriously wrong. She felt her heart sinking.

Halfway up the tremendous length of one of the cathedral’s wings, thick smoke was billowing. Flames danced wildly out of a single window, licking the ancient stone around it.

“Fire!” Alric said and pointed at the cathedral with a bandaged hand.

Kala just nodded.

“Looks like it’s just a small area, perhaps a single room. Cooking accident, probably, since it hasn’t spread,” Taran said and eyed Lucifae.

Lucifae shook her head. “No. That’s my cell…”

As they approached, Lucifae felt a familiar dread as she stared at the fires dancing out of her tiny window. Through her words and actions, she had offended Pelia so much that the warring goddess of light had directly attacked what was supposed to be the safest place on Naam. The cathedral was supposed to be magically protected against divine influence, but in the years after the Theomachy of Whitebay, many godly acts, some of them subtle and other profound, had terrorized the theomachists within. Now, her flame-engulfed cell had become the latest clear sign of a god’s fury.

A paladin of the Pure Mind stood guard at the cathedral’s active side gate. She eyed each of them up and down and bowed her head at Lucifae as she approached.

As soon as they stepped through the side gate in the auxiliary narthex, a tall inquisitor rushed to them. Armored and masked as they were, Lucifae couldn’t tell neither their sex nor their ancestry.

Behind the inquisitor, Lucifae saw Mother Bitterdawn waiting under a statue of Saintslayer Sir Edron Loys, a hero of the Theomachy of Whitebay and one of the few saintslayers currently alive. Mother Bitterdawn kept her arms folded in front of her chest and eyed Lucifae coldly. Yet the very fact that she was there made Lucifae think that her superior was worried.

“Apprentice Alric Videv. Your master has summoned you,” the inquisitor said in a deep, androgynous voice.

Alric just nodded and skipped away without a word, avoiding Lucifae’s gaze.

The inquisitor then pointed their armored hand at Kala and Taran. “Come with me,” they said.

“She’s wounded and requires healing but I am fine. I wish to follow Antipriestess Carver.” Taran pointed at Kala while his gaze darted between Lucifae’s eyes and the inquisitor’s mask.

Lucifae turned to look at him, feeling the usual awkwardness between them, but also worry. The Grey Cathedral could be a harsh place for civilians, especially those who had just faced the agents of the warring gods, she thought.

“Be glad you have served the theomachic cause and opposed the gods,” the inquisitor retorted. “Now you must confess and pray. The antipriestess has other obligations.”

Lucifae nodded at Taran. “I will be fine. The cathedral is my sanctuary.”

“Very well. See you soon,” he said as the inquisitor’s armored hand fell on his shoulder.

Lucifae opened her mouth to speak, but as she tried to find the right way to mention their date, the inquisitor spoke again.

“Come,” they said and Lucifae could only watch as the inquisitor ushered Taran and Kala through a side corridor.

Lucifae took a deep breath and walked towards Mother Bitterdawn. She bowed her head in front of her and waited.

“May the gods fall, my daughter,” Mother Bitterdawn said.

“And may we walk free once more, Mother.”

“The diviners told us of your actions tonight. You may rejoice in knowing that you offended the false goddess of the sun enough to attack your cell with divine fire. But, your wisdom and prudence have yet to be proven. Recklessly challenging the gods is the surest way to a quick death.”

Lucifae nodded, feeling uneasy at the thought of diviners watching her during her patrol and fearing what she would hear next.

“You must renounce them in prayer like you have never done before and be very caref —”

Crash!

A loud noise echoed from the side corridor Taran and Kala had left, interrupting Mother Bitterdawn and startling Lucifae. Mother Bitterdawn jumped back and gasped, but quickly composed herself. Lucifae dared to look up and saw an annoyed expression on her face.

Lucifae’s superior opened her mouth to speak again, but another crash, this time closer, interrupted her again.

Someone was shouting, and Lucifae was relieved it was not Taran. The shouts were coming closer, accompanied by the clank of heavy armor and the determined, rhythmic stomp of heavy feet.

“You bloody coward wimp clerics! All of you! Argh! What do you mean that’s not today’s side gate? I killed up that godshit of a monster good and you dare fuck my ears with your stupid protocols?!”

Someone must have replied something to the person who was shouting, causing another outburst: “Elder fucker antidong of who-cares! I’m here to kill some motherfuckin’ godfreaks. Who’s with me, eh? Nobody? You ball-less bacon-holes! You sit here playing your meat bouzoukia while the gods fuck up innocent people out there! You limp dongs! I’m gonna go out and find who’s that asshole who’s been farting all over this fuck-thedral!”

A calm voice said something Lucifae didn’t quite hear through the ruckus, and the person who was shouting exploded again: “That’s the worst fuckin’ excuse! You’re all holed up in this giant stone dong of a cathedral like whores in winter solstice while the motherfuckin’ gods do whatever they motherfuckin’ want! NO! I wanna talk to some pussyass dongslapper cleric with authority in this shitty place!”

Mother Bitterdawn gasped and then frowned as the source of this ruckus came into sight. She looked annoyed but not surprised. On the contrary, Lucifae, unused to profanities, stared in awe as the figure of an enormous paladin marched into the narthex, dragging a huge severed claw behind him, as well as a human cleric who was clinging on his forearm. Five other clerics and an assembly of apprentices followed him from a safe distance.

The paladin wore a silver and purple full plate panoply that was long overdue its maintenance and carried an assortment of weapons, including a huge, bloodied battleaxe that probably weighted more than Lucifae in full gear. With stomping strides, he arrived at the middle of the narthex, looked around but didn’t even seem to notice Lucifae or Mother Bitterdawn, and shook the cleric off his forearm.

“We are most grateful that you slew the monstrous crustacean,” one of the clerics said meekly. “B— but you didn’t have to bring the claw in here. The elders would’ve believed you if —”

Smash!

With a swift move, the huge paladin slammed the claw against the stone floor, smashing it and sending chips of chitin across the room. “I didn’t bring it here to prove I fucked it up,” he growled and pointed at the succulent crabmeat inside the claw. “I just wanted to eat some meat and not that dickbread you clerics serve. Cook the crab well, so I doesn’t stink of godfarts.”

Lucifae was shocked to hear such obscenities spoken in the cathedral.

One of the clerics ordered several apprentices to pick up the monstrous crab claw and they rushed out of the narthex without another word.

The paladin nodded, obviously pleased, and lifted his armored hands to remove his horned helmet, letting it hang behind his right shoulder.

Under the pale light of eternally-lit sanctuary lamps, Lucifae could see the menacing face of a middle-aged orc. His skin was a pale shade of green, and several grayish scars across his face distorted his features. He looked around, equal parts angry and confused, obviously as unaccustomed to the Grey Cathedral as Lucifae was to his vernacular.

His eyes fell on Mother Bitterdawn for a moment. “You some pussy with authority around here?”

“The one you seek will be here shortly,” she replied coldly and looked away, but did not waver under his gaze.

The orc paladin shook his head and moved his gaze onto Lucifae. He grunted and took a deep breath. “Hey, kid. Yeah, you. You’re all dirty, and you look tired, unlike those lily asscheeks,” he said, pointing at the clerics around him with his chin.

Lucifae looked down and remained quiet. She heart the clank of the paladin’s steps get closer. “Hey, kid, I’m talking to you. Were you with the two beat-up guard kids I just saw? Did you fuck the gods up good tonight?”

“In fighting the gods, I only fulfil my duty towards my fellow mortals,” Lucifae whispered a verse from the dysangelion of Martana.

“I knew it. I saw more kids on the streets tonight. Those ball-less dongs send kids fight and bleed while they hide in their fuck-thedral!”

One of the clerics came next to Lucifae and looked up at the orc. “Sir Rindar, this is hardly the way to speak to a young antipriestess like —”

“Well fuck you for telling me how I oughta speak, fatherfucker!” he roared at the cleric, who took several steps back. “And I’m no asscheek-clapping ‘sir’. Just a godbanger with an axe I’m gonna bury on the gods’ ass-ugly faces before I bloody die! Balls, I lived in a fuckin’ farm until the gods fucked it up, got it?”

The cleric nodded and backstepped slowly towards the other clerics and the apprentices who had grouped together next to a door that led to a flight of stairs at the other side of the narthex.

Lucifae dared to look up and examine Rindar, the self-proclaimed godbanger paladin. He looked tired, frustrated, and perhaps confused. He was also hurt. Up close, Lucifae could tell that his scarred face was contorted in pain, which contributed to his menacing look. She could also see that some of the blood on his armor and cloak was fresh and probably his own.

He looked down at her and they made eye contact. Lucifae could smell a strong odor lingering around him; a combination of sweat, blood, and oregano that made her flinch. She could also smell hunger in his breath.

Without breaking eye contact, Lucifae reached into her backpack and pulled out a piece of humble bread. “Nourish your body and cleanse your mind, so that you may fight the false gods another day,” she quoted the scriptures as she offered the bread to him, unsure of what else she should say.

Rindar chuckled and grabbed the piece, squeezing it into a ball in his fist before chucking it whole into his mouth. He chewed twice and gulped it down. “Yeah!” he exclaimed and slammed his armored palm against Lucifae’s back, sending her staggering several steps to the side. “Anyone who fucks the gods up and gives me food, even if it’s dickbread, is a good person…” He nodded his head at his own words, satisfied with what he had just said.

Lucifae nodded back, too embarrassed to say she agreed or to commend on the language. Exhausted as she was, she looked around for an excuse to leave, her eyes avoiding the paladin’s, and saw the group of clerics and apprentices on the far side of the narthex forming two lines on either side of the stairs.

She could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and a moment later a bald human man, well into his sixth decade, stepped into the narthex. He was no taller than many of the young apprentices, but he walked towards Mother Bitterdawn with the confidence of authority. Seven masked inquisitors, all of them armed, appeared behind the man and quickly moved in front of every exit in the narthex. Lucifae knew that this could not be good.

“Father Matias,” Mother Bitterdawn said, loud enough to be overheard, as she walked to meet him in the center of the narthex. They started conversing quietly and even though she couldn’t quite make out what they said, Lucifae felt uneasy, fearing she was part of the discussion.

“Who’s that?” Rindar grunted as he leaned closer to her. This was the first time Lucifae heard him speak without shouting.

Lucifae eyed the orc with worry. Worry not only for herself, but also for him. “This is Father Matias, the Keymaster of the cathedral,” she whispered.

“So, he a big deal with those inquisidongs following him?”

Lucifae nodded reluctantly and resisted the urge to smile at the unusual portmanteau. “He holds keys to every door in the cathedral. He is a hero from the Theomachy of Whitebay, a high antipriest, and a former inquisitor.”

Rindar nodded slowly as he eyed the Keymaster up and down. Lucifae stood next to him, unsure what to do next. As Rindar looked away, she took the chance to examine him further. His armor sported several deep dents that must be hurting his body inside his panoply, and she could see blood seeping from the left side of his breastplate. She felt the urge to use her magic to heal him, but the battle with the cannibals had left her completely drained.

After a few minutes of quiet discussion with Mother Bitterdawn, Father Matias turned towards Lucifae and Rindar.

“Faithless Rindar,” his voice was commanding as he walked closer and addressed the paladin. “On behalf of the Antihierarch, I thank you for destroying the monster of Okeanos, thus upholding your theomachic oaths to oppose the warring gods.”

“Faithless Rindar you say?” he asked and squinted his eyes as if he was concentrating on something for a long moment. “You know, fuck the gods and their shitty freaks that mess our world up, but I’m not totally faithless, you know. Used to pray to Mother Nature for healthy crops back when I was a farmer. Didn’t do me much good, but I guess I’m not completely faithless, harhar!”

“Rindar of Little Faith, then,” the Keymaster said, eyeing the paladin up and down. “As fortuitous as it was, your arrival in Whitebay was unplanned. You are not in an official mission here, yet you appeared in the most fortunate moment to oppose one of the gods…”

Rindar just nodded at the Keymaster, but Lucifae knew that his words carried sinister implications.

“I knew the godcunts were planning something shitty here, so I had to come!” he said.

The Keymaster’s eyes narrowed. “And how did you come by this knowledge, Rindar of Little Faith?”

“Ah yeah! You see, right after I left Midfort, one of the fuckin’ gods came to my sleep. I know how to shove trollsballs down their throats when they do that. This time though the dream was about this fucked-up city and your cathedral, so I knew them fuckers were cooking up a godshit and I had to come feed it back to them!”

“You admit that you followed divine signs to achieve your goals then?” The Keymaster eyed one of the inquisitors behind Rindar as he spoke.

Rindar nodded. “Just told ya! I saw the dream; I came and killed the bloody crab. Now I want it for dinner!”

“In the words of Dysangelist Krotius: ‘The gods will use your weaknesses against you. You must do the same.’ Do you believe you followed the dysangelists’ teachings tonight?”

“Fuck yeah I did!”

Lucifae nodded even though the Keymaster might had been aiming his question only at Rindar.

“Then you must prove your conviction. A god will try to use you against another god. Not even the mightiest saintslayers are completely free from their influence. Therefore, you must pray against them in isolation, Rindar of Little Faith. This is what you must do.”

Rindar’s eyes narrowed. “And my crab?”

“It shall await you to finish your antiprayers.” The Keymaster stared Rindar’s face for any sign of disobedience. Lucifae understood the Keymaster’s worry; that Rindar might have been manipulated by one god against another.

Rindar looked around the narthex, nodding slowly at each armed inquisitor. He was counting their numbers, measuring their strength.

Lucifae raised her hand. “Father Matias. With all due respect towards your judgment, Rindar of Little Faith is wounded from the battle. May I humbly suggest he received the care of our healers first?”

The Keymaster turned his gaze on her. “Dysangelist Lethimus said: ‘Fear not that which kills the body, but is not able to kill the soul, for the body is dust.’ Therefore, a lone paladin’s soul is more important than bandages and a hearty meal.”

Lucifae nodded. She knew she was being insolent, but felt an odd sense of camaraderie for the menacing orc paladin who also fought the gods that night. “What about healing magic though? The paladin is hurt, perhaps more so than it seems. Besides, Dysangelist Lethimus also said to ‘nourish your body and cleanse your mind, so that you may fight the false gods another day.’ I… I could take responsibility for the paladin’s healing, with your permission.”

The Keymaster furrowed his thick eyebrows. “Hmm… you are Lucifae, the antipriestess whom Pelia torments, yes? Your elder is worried about you and your repeated divine encounters. These are highly unusual for a cleric of your rank. Perhaps the gods are toying with you, clouding your vision as well. Perhaps you too have to pray in isolation tonight, in a cell deep in the cathedral’s crypts, away from any divine influence…”

Lucifae’s eyes widened. In trying to help Rindar she had gotten herself into trouble again. “All the theomachists were together and had everything in common,” she muttered and nodded.

Rindar looked down at Lucifae and the Keymaster, and nodded. “At least you’re not throwing me out like some coinless whoremonger… but better not eat my crabmeat, or there’ll be pain,” he said, pointing a finger at Father Matias.

“It is settled then. Both of you shall pray and rest in isolation for as long as it is needed for your minds to be clean of any divine influence. The inquisitors will lead you to the crypts, where you are to remain until permitted to leave. Does either of you have anything else to say?”

Rindar seemed thoughtful for a moment and Lucifae feared he might refuse to follow the Keymaster’s orders. He then slapped his armored hand on his forehead with a painful clank. “Balls! I almost forgot,” he said and fumbled with one of the large leather bags that dangled from his thick belt. He opened the bag and turned it inside out. Blood splashed on the stone floor and two severed heads, crushed and deformed, rolled out. “I also killed those two heretic freaks! Here’s proof.”

Father Matias’ eyes darted down at the crushed heads and up at Rindar again. “The diviners will determine whether these people were really faithful followers of the warring gods, or simply victims. Now you shall retire and dedicate your very souls in antiprayer, for the warring gods have touched you both,” he said. Lucifae could not see a shred of emotion on his face.

The seven inquisitors led Lucifae and Rindar deep into the cathedral, past the restricted libraries and deeper than Lucifae had ever ventured before.

“Your name’s Lucifae?” Rindar asked, his voice reverberating across the ancient crypt they were walking through.

“Yes, or simply Lucy,” she whispered.

“What? Speak up! It’s not like the godbanger brother who’s buried here is gonna hear you and wake up, hah!”

“My name is Lucifae Carver, or Lucy, and this is the final resting place of Saintslayer Caraleigh Arco, a theomachist ‘sister’ of yours.”

Rindar guffawed. “Theomachist my dong! I’m a theofuckist because I go out there and get my head busted fighting the bloody freaks of the fatherfuckin’ gods! So, I’m a godbanger, got it?”

“Rindar, you can be a ‘godbanger paladin’ and a theomachist. Those two are not mutually exclusive, I guess. It is just that the ‘Godbangers’ are formally known as ‘Theomachists’, at least here in the Grey Cathedral….”

Rindar rubbed his chin and nodded. “Well this finally makes some bloody sense! So, I’m both? Yeah, I like that!”

“Indeed. Anyone who opposes the gods is a theomachist, including paladins from other defiant orders. You are a paladin of the first order, the Order of Theomachy, which, as it seems, is also called… the Godbangers.”

“Gotcha,” he said, though Lucifae wasn’t sure he actually did. Rindar then leaned closer to Lucifae and placed his palm next to his mouth, as if to prevent the inquisitors from listening in. “Listen, kid. There’s some godly fuckery going on here, and it’s not the good kind of fuckery, lemme tell ya,” he whispered.

“I know…” Lucifae whispered back, feeling the eyes of the seven inquisitors on her.

Past Saintslayer Caraleigh Arco’s crypt, the inquisitors led them to a circular chamber, and from there down a long corridor with thick wooden doors on one side. They opened two doors next to each other and a tall female inquisitor, said: “Get in. Don’t come out until asked to. Ignore any sounds you might hear. May the gods fall.”

“Yeah, fuck them,” Rindar said and walked through one of the doors.

“…and may we walk free once more,” Lucifae muttered and did the same.

****

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