Chapter 6 – The Price of Power
“Lord Tellis, you better get out here,” a male voice shouted, interrupting Kasparian’s thoughts.
Wrinkles appeared on his forehead. What now? With the wisari’s heart in hand, he moved to the man and gazed out at the grassy plain.
A few hundred metres out, a dozen rows of holy warriors marched in their direction, the sun’s rays reflected in their shiny plate armour.
Kasparian’s jaw dropped. There had to be close to a hundred of them. He recognised the green cape of Captain Jillana in front. She was responsible for handpicking and training the holy warriors who served the followers of Gjandir and was leading the force towards the cave.
“What will we do?” asked the man. “We cannot fight them.”
Kasparian stared at the many rows of seasoned warriors and then at the older man next to him. Without a word, he raced back inside.
“What is it?” Mura asked.
“The bishops. They have sent an entire company of warriors.”
Mura’s eyes widened. “We cannot fight that many,” she argued.
Kasparian didn’t answer. He moved to the stone slab and, from his pocket, pulled the onyx and the purple crystal he’d used at all the previous attempts. He placed the two gems and the wisari heart on the altar.
“We will do everything we can to delay them,” Mura said and moved out of the cave with the rest of the disciples.
Kasparian barely heard her – his focus tuned in on the task at hand. He took a deep breath before picking up all three items. He squeezed the heart, onyx and core crystal in his hands.
He started citing a prayer, knowing that the wisaris would never answer now. Then again, they had abandoned him years ago. Next, he began a flare incantation, “Mentiro illu av’ror.”
His excitement grew when a tingling sensation moved through his hands and up his arms. He quickly activated the last component – the black gem, summoning a black shroud that filled the entire area with darkness.
Silence descended upon the cave. The only sound was the heavy stomps of the hundred seasoned warriors, moving closer by the second.
The tinkling suddenly stopped. Kasparian could still feel all three separate components in his hands, and his heart sank. What was he doing wrong? What if it wasn’t possible to combine the power of the realms? Would they all die here, making him responsible for the deaths of his disciples as well?
Hysterical laughter went out from the other side of the shrouded cave. “What did you think would happen? That you would suddenly get divine powers?” breathed Lindell.
A wave of feelings crashed down on Kasparian. Anger rushed through his veins, boiling his blood. Regret and sadness for killing the wisari filled his heart, and in his mind, hatred took over as he blamed the bishops for everything. He opened his mouth, unable to contain all these emotions, and let loose a howl that sounded more like the roar of a beast.
At that moment, a burning agony engulfed his hands. He could feel the heat of the fire on his face and chest when his hands burst into flames. Unable to let go, he kept screaming as the pain intensified. Was this Adalyn’s punishment for his sins?
To Kasparian, it felt like minutes passed before the fire slowly diminished together with the dark shroud covering the cave.
The first thing he saw was Lindell’s frightened expression, but then his attention moved to the blue and purple flames that ran across his hands. He wanted to let go, but his excitement outweighed any agony at that moment.
He slowly loosened his grip when the last flames faded from his scorched hands. The large purple crystal resting in his blackened palms brought pride and joy to his eyes. He wanted to cry out in joy and jump up and down for finally achieving what he’d set out to do years before. But then his eyes caught movement inside the crystal, and he turned it around to get a better glimpse.
Shadow and flame caressed each other inside the gem in a lover’s dance. Kasparian couldn’t take his eyes from the fascinating spectacle.
Mura’s voice called him to action, “Kasparian!”
He clenched the crystal in his crippled hands and moved out of the cave into the daylight.
Thirty metres down the hill stood the army of warriors with Jillana and Bishop Rongart in front. They both stared up at Kasparian and his burned hands. “We have come to carry out your judgement. You and your disciples will die for your crimes, but your deaths will be swift if you lay down your weapons!” shouted Jillana.
Kasparian’s laughter was borderline insanity. He held the crystal out. “You’re too late! Their power is mine now.”
Mura and the other disciples glanced at him.
Rongart took a step forward. “Your own disciples left you. They told us what you intend to do. Do you believe yourself greater than the gods? You lost someone close to you, but if it weren’t for them, none of us would be here,” the bishop shouted in his deep voice.
Suddenly both Jillana and Rongart froze up, staring at the cave entrance.
Kasparian turned his head and saw Lindell staggering out into the daylight. “They… They killed it! They murdered a god and took its heart,” the old man yelled.
First, an eerie silence swept across the plains, then the expressions of all warriors, the captain and the bishop, turned to wrath. Jillana curled her lip and charged up the hill, followed by her warriors.
“Stop them!” Mura commanded and launched fiery darts at the charging force, the other seven disciples joining in. But the small projectiles caused little damage to the plated warriors. Only a few fell as a dart found an opening in their armour or visor.
Mura looked back at Kasparian again. He knew why she looked to him, but he had no idea how to make the crystal work. He’d hoped for more time, but time was not in their favour with a charging force coming right at them. He nodded at Mura and turned his attention to the purple crystal.
Mura and the disciples changed tactics and began using the curse they had learnt to take down the wisari. “Conratu spinura!”
Eight of the first warriors fell into the grass on their way up, frozen by the curse. However, the remaining part of the force still came right at them.
Kasparian tried the same incantations as his disciples, but the purple crystal didn’t function the same as a core crystal. He watched in dread as the holy warriors reached the first disciples, cutting two of them down with ease. In desperation, he slammed the crystal into his forehead. How did the gods trigger their abilities? He thought about the young wisari they had killed - its bright yellow eyes, wide wings and big clawed talons. A cold sensation rushed through his arms, and fear found him – fear for his life and fear for the lives of his remaining disciples.
The crystal began vibrating, and something touched his head. It felt like tentacles latching out, caressing his brain and entering his mind, but he didn’t let go. If this were his punishment, it was time to accept it.
Suddenly, everything fell silent. It was almost as if time had stopped. At first, he didn’t dare to open his eyes, afraid of what he may find. But when he gazed out, he found that time hadn’t stopped, only the holy warriors. The scores of followers were kneeling before him, most of them with mouths open and eyes wide. He looked down himself but saw nothing out of the ordinary. What the hell was going on?
Mura rushed to his side. “Is it still you?” she asked with a baffled expression.
“Of course, it’s me,” he grunted.
“You… You look like one of them. A wisari.” She grabbed him by the waist. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop,” she whispered, pulling him away.
Kasparian had no idea what was going on, but he found it best to follow Mura’s advice. He had no interest in the fate that awaited if the holy warriors saw through the ploy.
As Mura pulled him along, he felt his link to the crystal wane. He tried to concentrate, but the vibration from the crystal still stopped.
Jillana was on her knees, only ten metres from Kasparian. She shook her head violently, the long braid on the back of her armour swinging over her shoulder. “It is not a real god; it’s Tellis! Take them down!”
Mura jumped on her horse and grabbed Kasparian’s arm, pulling him up. He almost dropped the crystal, no strength left in his burned fingers.
“Go, Lord Tellis. Change the world. Show them our dream of stopping death and disease,” said one disciple who found no horse to take him away.
“Hope and faith restored,” Kasparian whispered to the grey-bearded man on the ground.
When Mura kicked the horse, racing off with the six remaining disciples who had trained in the arts of destruction, Kasparian looked over his shoulder.
The older man smiled as if nothing in the world could touch him. He kept looking in their direction, even as the wave of warriors cut him down.
Swallowing hard, Kasparian turned his attention to the crystal. He could still feel its slight vibration. “W-what happened?” he stuttered.
Mura was silent for a while. “One moment Kasparian Tellis stood at the top of that hill, and the next, a god. An even bigger one than the one we took down inside the cave.”
Kasparian’s forehead wrinkled. A god? Had he turned into a wisari? Or at least made it appear so? He remembered his incantation that had created a mirage and saved them at the Kanthos gate. Could this be similar? An illusion of some kind? He looked into the crystal with a crooked smile. What other powers would this hybrid crystal give him?