Mark of the Fool
Chapter 621: Faith

The First Apostle’s face reddened, and he raised his hand higher.

Uldar’s divine light flared brighter, but Carey still felt none of its unwelcome warmth from earlier.

“What is happening?” Izas demanded again.

“Wait, Izas,” the First Apostle said. “I feel something…it feels much like a divine presence.”

“Who do you worship, child? The Traveller?” Izas asked. “If so, why? She is nothing more than a dead mortal.”

“Faith has power, even when directed at nothing, let alone the dead,” the First Apostle said. “Something strange has occurred. This is…” He paused. “The Traveller lived during the time of another who controlled a dungeon core. That one hunted for us. Perhaps…I should consult the archives, this could be a complication. Izas, take the young one to her quarters. We will try this again with more knowledge. And bring the holy symbol of the Traveller to me. Something odd is going on here.”

“Yes, First Apostle,” Izas said.

Carey felt a surge of mana behind her, and then a great weariness fell upon her mind.

The world quickly disappeared beneath the blackness of slumber.

“Not again,” Carey groaned, waking up in another strange place.

This time, she found herself laying on a soft bed with sunlight streaming down on her face from a small window carved in a smooth wall of stone. Thick iron bars lay across it, each marked with glyphs she recognised, there to disperse any mana if she began spellcasting.

“No escape,” she said bitterly, looking around the room.

It was sparsely furnished but comfortable; containing plain wooden furniture that included a small dining table, a sitting area, and a narrow bookshelf filled with sacred tomes.

Her hosts had arranged for a platter of warm, buttered bread, vegetables, and a cup of what looked like weak wine to be left on the table for her. She looked at the meal and her surroundings with distaste, “How quaint, as if some serviceable furniture and a half decent meal would make a prison cell anything more than what it really is,” Carey muttered to herself.

Of course their treatment of her had been nothing but gentle, so far.

They wanted something. She had no illusions as to how quickly that could all change if they wanted it to.

“I have to get out of here,” she said, staring up at the bars. “That terrible apostle is going to search his records and then set upon me so terribly. I…” She bowed her head in prayer. “Traveller, thank you for protecting me in my time of need…but I know that you are still gathering your strength. I thank you, and know that I can’t expect you to just take me out of here. But…what did you do earlier? Did you grant me a divinity?”

She swallowed. “Do you want me to be one of your priestesses?”

Carey didn’t know how she felt about that; after so many years serving a god who turned out to be using and betraying his people, she was reluctant to join with another one so deeply and so quickly.

But, if the Traveller was offering her help…

…should she not take it?

A gentle knock on the door drew her from her thoughts.

“Carey?” a small voice came through the door. “Are you alright?”

“Merzhin? Merzhin!” she rushed to the door.

It was crafted of thick slabs of wood reinforced with black iron, completely solid except for a small barred window just above eye level.

‘I wish I was just a little bit taller,’ she thought, standing at the door on tiptoe. Merzhin was in the hallway, looking very uncomfortable.

And he wasn’t alone.

Flanking him were two women with dangerous eyes and swords at their hips…

…and behind him stood another ancient priest, this one was built like a bull, all muscle.

She gasped.

His face was one she recognised from the cavern, she’d seen him after she was dragged through the rock. She shuddered at the memory.

“Merzhin, run, he’s the one who kidnapped us! she cried.

The man stared at her with the impassiveness of stone; the deadness in his eyes sent chills up her spine. He wore the robes of a priest, but looked at her in the same way the demons had when they’d attacked the Campus for Uldar Rally.

“Carey, don’t worry, it’s not what it looks like, ” Merzhin said quickly. “I’ve been talking to them and arguing for you.” His small hands reached up, gripping the bars. “They said you’ve been led astray. That someone has filled your head with lies against us and Uldar.”

‘Wait, what did he mean by us? Was he part of this? Was he one of them?’

She stared at him in disbelief.

Was that how she used to sound not that long ago?

“Listen, it’s not too late,” he pleaded. “They’re trying to save you. They’re—”

“Merzhin, we have to get out of here,” she cut him off. “These people. They’re evil, they want to keep the cycle going for Traveller-knows—”

“Uldar knows,” he said with confidence.

“I don’t bloody care who knows!” she screamed. “They want to keep the cycle going! They hurt people! Thameish people! We have to get away.”

“It’s not true,” he said. “Carey, you should look out your window. Did you know that this place is where Uldar ascended into full divinity? It is the closest place to his divine realm in all the material plane! And it shows! I’ve seen it, Carey: this valley is peaceful, its inhabitants kind. Uldar protects those who do his will. He will protect you, too.”

“What are you talking about? Is that what they told you, and you actually believed them? I don’t know if you were part of this before, but it certainly seems you’re part of it now!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Carey. Evil has seduced the Heroes and your Thameish friends from that wizard school, but we’ll take care of that—”

“Merzhin. Listen to me! They. Want. To. Keep. The. Cycle. Going,” she hissed, glancing at the old priest behind him.

The broad-shouldered man did not move. His mouth didn’t twitch. He did not smile, nor frown. He simply seemed as unconcerned as a fisherman standing beside a pond on a peaceful summer morning.

“They’ve been explaining things to me over the past few days,” Merzhin said, his voice dropping low. “I don’t quite understand all of it yet, but they spoke of Uldar’s plan. I’ve met a holy man who seems even more blessed than any priest. He’s called the first Apostle: and he told me that he hears Uldar’s voice! Do you hear me, Carey? Uldar speaks to us through him,and he loves us!”

Carey took a step away from the door.

The depth of yearning in Merzhin’s voice.

The pleading and relief in his eyes.

And she understood.

She saw it as clear as day.

For months she’d been plagued by doubts and fears. The entire time, all she’d wanted was for Uldar to come and explain himself. And now Merzhin had the next best thing: a powerful, secret priest of Uldar who claimed to speak to the god’s greatest divine servants.

A holy man who knew his sacred will.

How would she have reacted if she’d met the First Apostle months ago? Back when all she’d wanted was for someone to reassure her: to explain how the path she’d always walked was still the right one.

To tell her that the god she’d loved and dedicated her life to hadn’t abandoned her.

‘If I had heard that back then,’ she thought. ‘I would have accepted it. I longed for it and would have embraced it with my entire being.’

That was why these villains—these thugs in priests’ robes—didn’t look worried. They’d already told Merzhin what he’d desperately wanted to hear.

And he’d believed them.

“Carey…?” Merzhin said. “You’re…”

Tears trickled down Carey’s face. Despair gnawed at her. Fear threatened to tear her apart.

What hope was there? The Traveller had protected her…but the First Apostle was strong. Terribly strong. The only reason he’d stopped interrogating her was to research his enemy.

She knew the tactic well; the expedition members—when they encountered a new enemy—would pause and learn more about what they were facing. But once they’d done the research?

They would strike with a vengeance.

And she knew the First Apostle would do the same.

Could the Traveller keep protecting her?

She swallowed. At different times in her life, when her fears were almost drowning her—she would turn to her faith in Uldar for support. But now, Uldar and faith in him were the very things that threatened to drown her, her friends, and all she’d come to believe in.

So what could she do?

What could she believe in?

She swallowed.

A clinking noise suddenly came from above, startling her, catching her attention.

Carey looked up. Hanging from the ceiling was a large glass lantern framed in iron, suspended from the end of long links of chain. It was the room’s only light source. It hung low enough so she could reach up and touch it—if she stood on a chair—yet high enough to clear the top of someone’s head who was of average height.

A brisk breeze had suddenly churned up out of nowhere, rattling the chain whilesunlight reflected off the glass, lending the fixture the illusion of water shimmering over soft, soothing light.

She clasped her hands together.

‘That’s right…it’s not over yet,’ she thought. ‘I can have faith in the Traveller, but not just her. I can also have faith in my friends. My teachers. And myself…’

She turned back to the door, her eyes shining.

‘...and even in him. Besides, I vowed I’d give everything to save Thameland. So what do I have to fear?’

She stepped back to the door and gripped the bars, her eyes looking into Merzhin’s with such ferocity, that he startled.

The old priest uncrossed his arms.

“What is it, Carey?” the Saint asked.

“Wolves, Merzhin,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“I remember when we talked about Thameland; how we were shepherds defending our flock from the wolves,” she said. “And we talked about what would happen if the wolves turned out to be the hounds of the very sheep farmer we were guarding the flock for.”

She nodded to the priest behind Merzhin. “We found the hounds, Merzhin.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the old man growled.

“How much blood? How much Thameish blood have they shed to make their own sick little slice of paradise?” she demanded. “You wish to serve Uldar, Merzhin? Tell me, are you really serving him and his people right now?” Her eyes settled on Eldin. “Are these his people, or are they hounds?” .

“That’s enough!” the priest stepped forward.

“Watch them, Merzhin,” she said. “You are the most holy living man in all of Thameland. You get to say what is divine will. Not them.”

“I…” the Saint stammered.

“You are tired,” the old man said. “I think this visit is over. Do not let her corrupt your mind as I cautioned you about earlier.”

“Yes…yes…” Merzhin said, turning from the door. “I hope you…see the truth Carey.”

“You too, Merzhin,” she called back, “you too.”

As Merzhin the Saint walked down the hall, he fought the urge to look back.

‘Do not doubt,’ he said to himself. ‘Have faith. You have finally met people who know Uldar’s will. Carey just needs to see the truth…she just needs to see the truth…’

Even as he told himself this, a seed was being planted deep in his heart. One nestled within fertile soil that had been prepared during those long conversations with his friend.

A seed of doubt.

‘He’s wavering,” Eldin thought. ‘Was I mistaken?’

The old man kept his eyes on the Saint as the young man walked ahead of him. Instincts within the old assassin screamed he should kill the boy now, eliminate a risk.

Remove risks: that was what he’d been tasked with in service of Uldar, after all.

‘But this is the Saint of Uldar,’ he thought. ‘A most powerful tool in our order. If you are wrong… He pushed aside conflicted feelings. ‘Just wait and trust, Eldin. Have faith. He’ll see the truth of our mission.’

Even as he thought this, a seed had been planted in his heart.

A seed of doubt.

Alexander Roth squinted against the wind, scanning Finnegan’s Crags far below him as he gripped his staff in one hand. A battalion of air elementals searched every nook, crack and stone they could find.

His breathing was slow and steady.

His shoulders slumped and relaxed.

His mind was calming his body, using every meditation skill he’d ever learned.

But yet, his heart still thundered with barely suppressed anger and fear.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

Ten days had passed since Carey’s disappearance, and he’d spent every waking moment searching for her and Merzhin. He and his companions had searched Finnegan’s Crag, the forests near Luthering, Greymoor and anywhere else they could think to search.

They’d found nothing.

Less than nothing.

If anything, they had gone backwards.

Trails had grown colder and leads were disappearing.

As was the case with information they’d received about a group of rangers.

The Watchers of Roal had learned that Thameish rangers who’d been scouring the area for Carey and Merzhin—rangers who’d recently joined the expedition—had disappeared.

They’d been checking the woods, then completely vanished, leaving neither sign nor trail.

Alex had remembered a young man who’d accompanied the Heroes to the encampment in the early days of the expedition; a young man who had moved as though he’d been well taught how to conceal his body language.

And with that memory, more pieces had fallen into place.

Whoever had taken Carey and Merzhin had been preparing for some time.

Every moment they had them was another moment they could be dead. Even with half the kingdom looking for them, it seemed they were no closer to being found.

‘Come on, Professors,’ Alex thought, watching his summoned elementals combing the land below. In a way, he wished he’d brought Claygon and the others…but better they search different areas and cast a wider net. ‘Baelin, please come back soon. Professor Jules, we need answers. We need something.’

Questioning the Ravener-spawn hadn’t gone well either; no matter which creature, or how they’d tried to get them to talk, the monsters had said nothing. He’d learned that interrogators from the city were brought to the Research Castle to try…certain high level magical techniques that loosened the tongue, even though they damaged the mind.

But even with that intensity of questioning, they’d learned nothing; the monsters resisted every method used to probe their minds.

Which left only one option.

Professor Jules.

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