"I found the missing children…come quickly…Red Sky Brickyards…G."
The message was hard to read, clearly written in haste. The boy who'd delivered it, in total defiance of the curfew, waited impatiently for her to dismiss him. His glowing red eyes identified him as moon-touched, which meant that he was at least safe from the Fiend Moon's depredations, if not from the other dangers that lurked in the night. She dug out two silver harts from her coin pouch and paid him. He snatched them from her hand and wordlessly fled into the scarlet-lit night. She closed the door and returned to her bedroom to quickly dress. Although it was likely that she was headed into danger, she decided not to take the time to put on her armor. She grabbed her sword, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and stepped out into the night. She knew that Inspector Constable Gregor Landsgard wouldn't wait long—the man was impetuous enough to go in after the children by himself. She needed to hurry.
Destasia Mistreaver strode through the abandoned streets of the city of Mist Haven with determination and purpose. It was still at least two hours before dawn and the nightly curfew was still in place; the only people who should be out at this hour were the patrolling constables. One could also always expect the usual criminal element that plagued every city to be active under such circumstances. Destasia was neither of these. The blue cloak that she wore was emblazoned with the golden winged lion of the Church of El. She was, in fact, a knight, a Paladin of El, one of only three in the entire world of Selestria. She outranked most bishops and was not subject to the nightly curfew that most kingdoms had implemented since the rise of the cataclysmic Fiend Moon over five hundred years ago.
The night air was chill with the approach of autumn, and the Fiend Moon glowed with red fury, painting the narrow, cobbled streets of the Bricks district in scarlet shadows. A sense of foreboding filled Destasia as she made her way through the eerily silent streets. There were no streetlamps in this part of the city. The dark shapes of massive brick factories, the engines of the city's industry, loomed menacingly overhead. Her hand never strayed far from the pommel of the long sword that rode comfortably at her hip. Demons, cultists, and bandits were an ever-present danger to anyone foolish enough to be out alone at night.
She found the Red Sky Brickyards in the shadow of the City's south wall, the complex sprawled across several city blocks. It was surrounded by an imposing fifteen-pace black brick wall. The main entrance consisted of massive double iron gates that were flanked by twenty-pace tall towers. A large sign proudly displayed a stylized painting of the Fiend Moon with scrawling letters that proclaimed, "Welcome to Red Sky Brickyards." Destasia immediately disliked the place; there was something profoundly wrong with the use of the Fiend Moon as a trademark.
She had hoped to find Gregor waiting for her on the street outside the facility gates, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was no light coming from the windows of the towers, nor did she see any sign of life on the walls. The place seemed deserted. She paused for a moment to consider her options and quickly decided to search for another entrance rather than try to rouse whatever guards might lurk at the main entrance. Rather than following the main street around the facility, she decided to start her search with the dark, alley-like lane that separated the city wall and the brickyard wall.
Halfway down the lane, Destasia came across a postern gate that led into the brickyard. The gate was slightly ajar. A piece of parchment lying in the dirt nearby caught her attention; she picked it up but found that it was too dark to make anything out. She whispered a prayer, calling upon El for his blessing, and her hand began to glow faintly as she focused her will. The light was just enough for her to be able to make out the messy script that had been scrawled upon the crumpled piece of parchment. She recognized Gregor's handwriting; it was the same as the note that had been delivered to her.
"Des…going in…Heard child screaming…can't wait any longer… Be careful… G."
Her throat tightened with concern as she read the short message. The situation screamed of a trap, but she understood what had motivated the inspector constable to move in by himself. In his place, she'd have done the same. She knew Gregor Landsgard well; they'd worked together on several occasions in the past year. She respected him as a man of courage and integrity. Gregor was somewhat of a loner and was obsessive about missing moon-touched children. Apparently, the inspector's own youngest son had gone missing nearly a decade ago. In any case, his willingness to help the moon-touched made him unpopular with his fellows at the constabulary. Fear and hatred towards the moon-touched was a growing reality in all segments of the realm, thanks to the vitriolic preachings of the Archbishop. Gregor had turned to her for assistance in several cases when he'd learned that she too was on the outs with her colleagues for opposing their hateful rhetoric towards the moon-touched. In this latest case, more than fourteen moon-touched children had been abducted over a period of six weeks, and no one in the constabulary except Gregor was willing to do anything about it.
Steeling herself, Destasia dismissed the glow from her hand and drew her long sword. She was aware that she was most likely walking into a trap, but she was determined to find Gregor, rescue the children, and get everyone out alive. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the postern gate open far enough so that she could slip into the darkness beyond.
She found herself in a small, fenced-in courtyard which was in turn surrounded by large piles of finished bricks. In the near distance, she could see the outline of a tall, squat building. The fence gate ahead of her had clearly been forced open, but otherwise there was no sign of life. She strode forward, pushed through the fence gate, and stepped into a narrow space between two brick piles. She didn't have a clear idea of where to go, so she decided to head towards the nearest visible building. She navigated through the maze of brick piles as quickly as she could, giving up stealth as a sense of urgency goaded her forward. The shadows were deep, and the scarlet light from the Fiend Moon only seemed to make the ubiquitous dark spaces more threatening.
After a few minutes, she emerged from the rows of bricks into an open space facing the building she was aiming for. The structure was made entirely of bricks and featured scores of chimneys of various sizes that rose into the hellish night sky like fingers splayed in supplication.
Halfway between herself and the structure, she noticed what appeared to be a body lying motionless in the dirt. Fear lashed at her heart as she cautiously approached the unmoving form. The sense of being watched added to her dread.
Destasia mumbled a prayer to El as she reached the still form. It was draped in a blanket or tarp, preventing her from identifying it. Rather than risk unbalancing herself by bending over, Destasia used the tip of her sword to reach under the covering and, with a swift flick of her wrist, sent the shroud flying to land a few paces away.
What lay beneath was unrecognizable except for the obvious shreds of a constable's uniform. What truly identified the victim though was the faintly glowing sword that lay at the body's side. The magical relic blade belonged to Gregor Landsgard. The inspector constable had died horribly. His eyes were gone, as was most of the flesh on his face and neck. Thick steel spikes had been driven through his hands, and his chest had been ripped open, his heart removed. There was barely any visible blood.
Destasia's training as a knight of the Inquisitorium took over. Her mind and senses took in every detail in a few swift heartbeats, categorizing and analyzing everything that she observed. She knew right away that demons, foul minions of the Fiend Moon, were most likely responsible for this carnage. A tear of sorrow slipped from her burning eyes; Gregor had been a good man and hadn't deserved such an awful end. She wished he'd waited for her. She might have been able to prevent this tragedy.
Gregor's sword suddenly flared brightly. A horrific shriek shattered the night's silence.
Destasia whirled to face the brick piles that she'd navigated through just a few moments ago. Dozens of dark shapes stood on top of many of the brick piles, their eyes glowing scarlet like the light given off by the Fiend Moon. The scraping of boots on stone alerted her to another threat emerging from the building behind her. She glanced over her shoulder towards the nearest building and saw a dozen men armed with rusty swords and spears emerging from a door. They spread out in a semi-circle around her.
Surrounded on one side by demons and on the other by cultists, Destasia didn't hesitate. She sprang into action, charging towards one of the cultists and cutting him down with a swift flick of her blade that caught him in the throat. She leaped over the falling body and ran towards the nearby building, using the momentary surprise caused by her sudden attack to escape the cultists' encircling maneuver. Fighting in the open when heavily outnumbered was a recipe for a quick death, and Destasia had no intention of being an easy victim.
Her best hope was to get inside the building and find a place that would force the enemy to come at her in fewer numbers. If she could hold them off till dawn, the demons at least would be banished. She had little doubt that she could handle the cultists on her own. Her hopes were dashed when she reached the heavy wooden door that led into the building and found that it had been locked tight from within. She turned, facing the oncoming cultists, and quickly slid along the brick wall until at least a half dozen paces were between her and the doorway. She was still in a better position than she had been in the open. Her back was protected at least. She raised her sword skyward, focused her will, and shouted:
"El, protect me!"
An aura of light sprang up in a twenty-pace circle around her. The ward would protect her from the demons for a time. She hoped it would be enough time for her to be able to deal with the cultists.
To her surprise, the cultists milled about in confusion for a few heartbeats, then they bunched up in a mass and charged towards her. The lack of coordination or tactics confused her. Everyone in the realm was required to serve in the militia for at least two cycles, which meant that most people had a basic understanding of warfare, but apparently not these people. She shrugged and focused her will, bringing a small ball of intense light into existence amid the oncoming cultists. She closed her eyes for a half heartbeat. The ball of light exploded in a brilliant, soundless flash that blinded all the cultists.
Their advance stalled as one of the lead attackers stumbled and fell. Destasia quickly slid along the wall for a few paces and then launched herself at the milling group from an oblique angle. The cultists were still blinded and stood no chance against her whirlwind assault. She moved among them in a blur of speed and grace, her blade flicking in and out with economical precision and efficiency. Every strike resulted in a swift death. There was no heroism in what she did; it was a slaughter. It was them or her though, and it took her less than a few moments to cut them all down.
She didn't get a chance to catch her breath or savor her victory. A beam of black energy lanced out from the outstretched hand of a demon. The dark energy struck her light shield and shattered it in one blow. Destasia cried out in pain and dropped to one knee. Her head rang as if a gong had exploded inside of her skull. She shook her head, driving out the momentary confusion, and focused her gaze outward on the demons.
They were arrayed in a semi-circle, five paces apart from each other and a good thirty paces away from her. The apparent lead demon stood directly across from her at the apex of the semi-circle. There were nine of them altogether, and they'd taken possession of men and women of various ages.
It was unusual for so many people to have been taken at once. People generally stayed indoors at night, and if they did go out for any reason, they usually wore charms that protected against possession and mutation. The nightly curfews existed to limit the chance of mass possessions. Such mitigating measures had allowed humanity to rebuild civilization following the catastrophic years that followed the rise of the Fiend Moon. Destasia could see from the aura of power that surrounded the lead demon that the others had shared their power with it. This too was unusual, for demons were selfish beings.
The oddities of the situation didn't matter now, however. The lead demon was raising both hands towards the moon. Destasia braced herself and called upon El once more. Her shield flared back to life as the lead demon brought his open hands together in a resounding clap. A scarlet web of energy dropped from somewhere above and draped itself over her shield. The scarlet webbing began to pulse in time with the pulsing of the Fiend Moon, and Destasia felt both the shield's strength and her own vitality being drained simultaneously.
The eight lesser demons armed themselves with long spears that had been stacked nearby. She prayed desperately for El to deliver her from this hopeless situation. The demon leader stood tall and resolute against her. Her shield was quickly being drained of power, and she herself felt feeble as her vitality was also leeched away. In all her young life, Destasia had never faced such odds, and she'd never felt more alone.
She shook her head in irritation; giving in to despair only aided one's enemies. El had always delivered her, and even if he didn't this time, she'd lived her life well, if not for as long as she'd have liked. Her life belonged to El; if it was his will for it to end here, then so be it. Fighting off the fatigue that was gnawing at her, she prepared to take the fight to her foes. The building at her back had served her well against the cultists, but now that the demons were using magic and were armed with spears, it was time to rely on mobility.
Without warning, two of the demons to the leader's right collapsed as a lithe figure suddenly materialized in their midst. Fast as a whip, the new assailant turned and raised a fist towards the lead demon. There was a whoosh as an invisible force struck the surprised fiend, and it was sent hurtling through the air to land at Destasia's feet. The dark web was instantly snuffed out as the demon lost control of its spell. Destasia didn't hesitate; her vitality was fully restored, and she struck like a viper with a powerful stroke that removed the possessed human's head. She didn't wait to see what her unknown ally was doing; instead, she sprang forward to attack the nearest demon. The fiend wasn't paying attention to her, and she dispatched it easily with a thrust to the chest.
Two demons flung themselves at her. She dodged a spear thrust and took the wielder's arm off at the elbow before reversing her sword stroke just in time to knock aside the second demon's thrust. The fiends dropped back a few paces to keep their reach advantage; the one who'd lost part of its arm was awkwardly wielding its spear one-handedly and ignoring the blood that spurted from its severed limb. She focused her will on her sword, and it began to glow brightly with holy light. The demons dropped back further as instinctual fear of the holy overrode their aggressive natures.
She charged forward, easily dodging the clumsy thrust of the one-armed fiend and sheAling through the spear of the second with a mighty swing of her blade. Before it had time to react, she split its skull open on the backswing. She dropped and rolled, felt the wind from a spear thrust pass overhead, and rose fluidly while thrusting upward with her sword. The glowing blade pierced the remaining demon's gut and tore upward, cutting through flesh and organs alike.
She whirled to face her next foe but found that none remained. Only she and her mysterious ally were left standing. The yard was littered with corpses, a testament to the night's grim work. She was breathing heavily but maintained a defensive posture, her eyes scanning the shadows for signs of more lurking threats.
The stranger approached her slowly, and Destasia saw with surprise that he or she was a Carcossan, a mysterious race rumored to be from another world. In shape and size, Carcossans bore a resemblance to humans, though on average they tended to be a little taller and thinner of body. It was hard to know if Carcossans were like humans in their features, however, for the entire race covered every inch of their skin, including weAling masks over their faces and gloves on their hands.
Some people claimed that they'd caught a glimpse of a Carcossan's ears and that they were pointed at the top and covered in tattoos. The race was also known to wield mind magic, an ability that made them much feared among Selestria's other races. It was also known by certain people—Destasia being one of them by virtue of being a member of the Inquisitorium—that the Carcossans were embroiled in a bitter religious civil war called the Shadow War, which was being fought across the entire world. Many Carcossans were exiles from their homeland, often hiring themselves on as mercenaries and always hunted by one of the two factions of the Shadow War. The lost king, Titus Silverhart, had waded into the fray by welcoming both the exiles and the Embassy, the so-called rebel faction. Some whispered that the disappearance of the royal family some twelve years ago was retribution from the Faceless, the Carcossan ruling faction.
The Carcossan moved with grace and confidence as he cautiously approached her. She became confident that the Carcossan was male the closer he got to her. He always kept his hands visible so as not to alarm her, though she understood that the real threat was his mind, not a mundane weapon. He wore a black fighting robe. His hair was a lustrous black and flowed down his back. His mask was bone white with silver runic etchings carved into it.
"I am Kel'Sed," the Carcossan said as he came to a stop a half dozen paces from her. His voice was deep but richly melodic.
"Destasia Mistreaver of Mist Haven at your service. Thank you for your timely intervention," she replied, trying not to sound too suspicious. "I am curious though, what are you doing out after curfew? It stretches credulity that your presence here is coincidental."
"I was tracking a dangerous foe," the Carcossan replied with a shrug. "She is a powerful psychemancer named Gor'Thal, an agent of the Faceless. She is nearby with a contingent of your church knights. This was all an elaborate trap set for you. I believe they intend to take you prisoner or kill you."
Destasia stared at Kel'Sed in shock. The Carcossan had to be mistaken, maybe even lying. She could easily believe that the Order of the Inquisitorium might try to kill her. The Inquisitorium's hierarchy hated her for being a woman and for her refusal to condone or participate in their less-than-moral methods of achieving their objectives for the church. As much as she disliked and mistrusted the local leaders of the Inquisitorium, she couldn't believe that they would stoop to working with fiend cultists and actual demons.
"I can read your thoughts, Destasia. You are doubting that your church order would ever work with demons. I assure you that though it is not their preferred method, they want you dead more than they care about their dogma. You are a threat to their plans, and they haven't been able to control or eliminate you on their own. They've turned to the Faceless for assistance. This entire plot is Gor'Thal's plan. I wish I could explain everything, but there is no time. I have masked my presence here with my own psychemancy, but my intervention in the fight will not have gone unnoticed. They will be coming. I have secured a route of escape over the building, there."
Kel'Sed half-turned and pointed towards the building that she'd tried to enter for refuge earlier. She noticed that a rope now hung down the side of the building.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked, her voice wary.
"I don't know how to convince you except to ask you to consider my actions," he responded mildly. "There is no time to waste. I suggest you trust your instincts."
One of her many El-given talents was to sense evil in beings that she dealt with directly. She sensed no evil in Kel'Sed. He had almost certainly saved her life by intervening against the demons. El often worked in mysterious ways; she had to trust his path for her.
"Alright, let's see where this goes. Lead on."
"I cannot go with you. Gor'Thal must think you are still here; otherwise, they will quickly discover the escape route I have secured for you. When you go, I will overlay a psychic image of you over myself. When they get here, they will only find me, and you will be long gone."
"What? You're making no sense. How will you get away? Come on, we can fight our way out together if we have to."
"I'm sorry, Destasia, there simply isn't enough time to explain everything. Our enemies are clever and have created a trap for you that they believe is inescapable. We cannot fight our way out without both being slain. What they failed to account for is me. I can mask your escape, but I must stay here to do it. You must escape to fight another day. My time has come; I have lived long and well. You are young and have a great destiny ahead of you. I have this last chance to thwart the Faceless. I would only ask but one favor, though it is a big one."
"What?" she asked, her voice tight with concern.
"I have seen and done many things. I hold many important secrets that must not fall into the hands of the Faceless. I want to put a piece of my psyche into your head. I need you to escape with my memories and fulfill one last task for me."
Destasia had never heard of such a thing being done before. Fear and suspicion immobilized her. What should she do? She felt certain that Kel'Sed was right about there being little time. She had to make a quick decision about something that could affect her entire life in ways she couldn't even begin to guess at.
"I've never heard of a 'psyche' being put into someone's head before. Is that like possession? How will this affect me long-term?"
"Only master psychemancers can safely do what I am proposing. And yes, I have the skill and knowledge to do this safely, though truthfully, I've never done it before. It is nothing like possession. Your mind will remain in control and separate from my psyche. I wish there were more time to discuss all of the possibilities, but time is not on our side."
Destasia sighed and sent up a silent prayer to El. After half a minute, she reluctantly nodded. She could sense the Carcossan's desperation, though he was trying to hide it. She understood that by allowing Kel'Sed to do this, she was making herself a player in the Carcossan Shadow War. Despite the dangers and the unknowns, she was confronted with one simple truth: She wanted to live.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked, a lump in her throat.
"I need to touch your temples. I will transfer my psyche to you. I have already set the overlay to remain with my body. After the transfer, there won't be much of me left but a remnant that reacts only instinctively."
"That sounds awful, Kel'Sed. Why sacrifice yourself in this way?"
"If this has the expected outcome that I am hoping for, then we will be embarking on a new adventure, something never before accomplished. Do not concern yourself about me; I do this willingly and without reservation."
Destasia wished she felt half as confident as Kel'Sed sounded. The entire thing sounded mad; she had just met this man. Yet she was about to let him put something of himself in her head, meanwhile he would sacrifice his life for hers. It sounded like something out of a story, not real. She wished there were more time to consider this, but she knew that there wasn't. She nodded again, gritting her teeth against the intense anxiety that was roiling her stomach.
Kel'Sed nodded and stepped forward a few paces until he stood within an arm's length of her. He quickly removed his leather gloves and raised his exposed hands to each of her temples. She saw that his hands were completely covered by colorful tattoos depicting scenes that she only glimpsed briefly and couldn't make sense of.
"This will be momentarily very painful, and you'll have bad headaches for a week or so. Don't be worried about it; it is perfectly normal. Things will resolve themselves in short order."
Destasia cried out as a sharp, lancing pain suddenly stabbed into her head. She was momentarily blind and stunned as her mind seemed to shut down for a few heartbeats. Her vision and thoughts came back to her quickly, however, and she saw that Kel'Sed was on one knee with his head bowed. Concern for him overcame her, and she reached out a comforting hand towards him.
"No, don't touch me," he commanded, speaking directly into her head. "That is merely an empty shell. Go, they are coming; flee now!"
She shook her head in denial, trying to clear her mind of the painful fog that had settled over it.
"You made the bargain; the transfer is complete. You now carry both of us and cannot allow them to kill or take us. We have much to accomplish together; now go!"
Destasia's vision blurred for a moment as tears filled them, and a single sob escaped her lips before she angrily shook her grief away. Her head hurt abominably, and she really couldn't understand what the voice in her head was saying other than that she should flee.
"El bless you, Kel'Sed. I swear I will make them pay for this. I will fulfill your mission no matter what it takes."
Kel'Sed nodded, and Destasia turned and sprinted away, leaping over the corpses strewn throughout the yard. She veered off her course for a moment to snatch up Gregor's sword. The weapon was a magical relic that she didn't want the Inquisitorium to possess. Gregor would have wanted his eldest son to inherit the blade. She would see to it that the boy got the sword. It was surprisingly light and well-balanced in her hand as she grasped the hilt without pausing in her mad dash towards the looming building that was her escape. She put the sword through an empty loop in her belt as she ran.
She reached the brick structure and leaped as high as she could, her outstretched hand latching onto the bottom of the hanging rope. The strangely fibrous cord seemed to grip her in turn. She began to climb. She reached the top and found that the cord wasn't even tied off to anything; it simply dangled from the edge of the roof. She gaped at it in consternation. How had she managed to get all the way up without it tumbling off the roof?
"It's magical rope from my homeland. It's very valuable; make sure you bring it. Just tug on the end," Kel'Sed's voice spoke in her mind.
Her head hurt too much for her to bother questioning the voice that spoke in her head. She felt like she might pass out soon. She gave the rope a single tug as instructed, and it quickly slithered up the wall on its own and coiled itself into an easy-to-carry ring, which she slung over her shoulder.
Before scampering off across the chimney-covered roof, Destasia took one final look back down at Kel'Sed. The Carcossan remained in the same position that she'd left him in. The shadows about him moved, resolving themselves into the armored form of church knights. These weren't just any church knights, however; Destasia saw that their cloaks and tabards bore the great hunting bear, the insignia of the Fiend Hunters, the personal inquisitorial company of the High Inquisitor himself. More figures emerged from the shadows: a tall Carcossan who wore a scarlet mask and a priest in a scarlet robe. Destasia sneered; she immediately recognized the priest. Only Father Blackbeak would wear scarlet, a color that was strongly associated with the Fiend Moon.
Kel'Sed had told her the truth: powerful forces in the church hierarchy had allied themselves with unholy forces. The apparent alliance of church and Carcossan also pointed towards an expansion of the Carcossan Shadow War, which might have been inevitable when the lost king welcomed the Carcossan exiles into the realm. The pain in her head was increasing, and there was little she could do now. She sent a prayer up to El on Kel'Sed's behalf and then turned away from the scene below. She hoped that Kel'Sed's psyche would give her a greater understanding of what was going on, but for now, she had to get away.
She sprinted across the rooftop until she reached the southwest corner. She dropped the magicked rope at the roof's edge. The cord uncoiled itself and slithered down the side of the building until it hung as it had on the other side. Heart thumping, Destasia grabbed the rope and swung over the roof's edge and began to repel downward. She reached the ground quickly, and once again tugged on the rope, which unlatched from the roof and coiled itself into a ring as it fell. She slung the coiled rope over her shoulder and headed towards the maze of brick piles that also littered this side of the facility's yard.
She retraced Kel'Sed's route, relying on his memories to get her out. She came to a postern gate on the west side of the brickyard and found four Fiend Hunter knights standing still as statues there. She drew her sword and approached them cautiously. The knights didn't move.
"Don't worry about them," the voice in her head said pleasantly. She wished it wouldn't do that; every time it spoke, her head hurt more. "I temporarily paralyzed them. They can see and hear everything but can't react. Oh... sorry, I didn't realize that this was hurting you. I'll shut up now. This will pass."
The knights were all stAling wide-eyed and unblinking, but they were still breathing, which was more than they deserved after this night's butchery.
Destasia turned away from the church knights, walked through the unbarred postern gate, and fled into the night. Her head was throbbing horribly, but the pain couldn't compare to the ache in her heart. Good men had fallen here, and her beloved church had allied itself with fiends.