Chapter 4 – The Crime of Ambition
“Conratu spinura,” shouted Mura, pointing her sceptre at another of the disciples standing ten metres from her. He was a young man, not much older than Mura, muscular and with thin black hair. His arms, upper body and head bent backwards, forced to the breaking point by the spell. The young man’s mouth and eyes were wide open, but not a sound crossed his lips, not even a whimper.
“Yes! Masterfully done,” praised Kasparian. His expression revealed his disappointment when he looked from his favoured Mura to the paralysed man. “We have been at this for nearly a month, Lee. You have to do better. We don’t know how much time we have before the bishops find us.”
The young man could do nothing but stare back at Kasparian, his body not responding to any command.
“It’s enough,” Kasparian barked.
Mura lowered her sceptre, and Lee fell to the ground. “I-it’s too much. We can’t do this,” he breathed, rubbing his arms and legs.
“I know you are scared, but duelling is the best way to learn, and you need to learn fast. By risking pain and injury, you will start reacting instinctively,” Kasparian explained. He offered his hand to the man and pulled him up. “It’s our only chance. We ride for Pineview in two days.”
“Pineview? What’s in Pineview?” asked Lee.
The other seven disciples moved closer.
“Pineview is just a small town, but they have something essential to our plan – a cathedral and a bishop,” Kasparian explained.
Mura nodded. “I have heard of him. Bishop Lindell’s kindness is known across Elonia. He is the reason Pineview has a growing population despite its location inside a soggy pine forest.”
“Lindell is the key. The gods favour him,” said Kasparian.
“You mean to kidnap a bishop?” Lee asked sceptically.
“I do. But we won’t hurt him unless there’s no other way.”
“Lindell does what we want to do as well. He shares our goal. What do you hope to achieve by kidnapping him?” Lee continued.
“We need to show the gods that we won’t stop. We are still here and won’t be easily disregarded,” explained Kasparian. “If we kidnap their revered bishop, they will have no other choice than to act.”
“They will come for blood this time. Your blood,” Mura said, concerned.
“Which is why we are training. We need to be ready when they come,” Kasparian said as he moved back into the cave.
Two days later, Kasparian, Mura and the seven other disciples hid in the shade of the pine trees that enveloped Pineview. They gazed at the large wooden structure just inside the clearing, forty metres from their location. Every building in Pineview was made from wood, even the cathedral.
Kasparian scanned the area visible from their location – the town seemed abandoned. When a cheer came from inside the cathedral, a grin spread across his face. “He’s preaching when the sun is at its highest, just as the bishops of Kanthos.”
Mura nodded. “We still need to be careful.”
“They are woodsmen, not warriors,” a man in the group snorted.
“Don’t underestimate them. This place is not like Kanthos. There are dangerous animals, brigands and a harsh environment, making these people a steadfast bunch at least,” Kasparian explained. He signalled the others. “Remember what we planned and be careful. We don’t want to hurt anyone if we can avoid it.” They all followed as he snuck closer to the clearing.
At the tree line, he looked over the town’s empty streets. Those who weren’t working in the forest had to be inside the cathedral, listening to Lindell’s undoubtedly wise words. When he raised his foot, intending to take the first step forward, his eyes suddenly caught movement.
Across the clearing, he saw the outline of two people standing on a small platform in the treetops. Kasparian couldn’t make out the details, but gazing across the trees, he saw two more platforms, one of them less than thirty metres to their left.
He quickly signalled for the others to move back into the forest. He had expected Pineview to have some kind of protection, but nothing this organised. His mistake could have cost them dearly.
“What?” whispered Mura.
“Hunters, up high. Several of them are watching the town,” replied Kasparian. “We have to wait until everyone leaves the cathedral. Hopefully, that will draw the hunters’ attention.”
“Hopefully…” Lee grunted.
Less than ten minutes later, the sound of doors slamming open followed by a buzz of voices filled the clearing. Soon after, more than a hundred people streamed out of the cathedral. Women, men and children, all talking and laughing.
Kasparian studied them. Fifteen years earlier, this was what he’d hoped to achieve – to inspire people and give them hope. He just wanted to make a difference. Kasparian turned to his disciples and nodded before leading them forward. They sprinted into the clearing and went straight for the cathedral.
Following the pine log wall, they arrived at a simple door in the back of the building. Without thinking twice, Kasparian forced it open and ran inside.
He found himself in a small chamber with a single bed and several cabinets full of books. It was the bishop’s quarters, but there was no sign of him. Kasparian continued through the room and tore the next door open, moving into a larger room with a round table large enough to seat half a dozen people. Several paintings decorated the walls, and Kasparian knew every one of them. They told the history of the followers of Gjandir, the faction that worshipped the wisaris who inhabited the Realm of Light. Eight hundred and fifty years earlier, when Adalyn showed herself to the people of Elonia, she came with a warning that caused the faction of light to be formed.
When voices went out behind the next door, Kasparian wasted no time and darted across the room. Through the door, the cathedral rose before him. Despite the simple demeanour of the place, Kasparian was impressed by the resemblance to his former cathedral in Kanthos. Rows and rows of artfully crafted benches, chandeliers and several wooden carvings and figurines of winged beings decorated the place.
An older man with short grey hair, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt, moved towards them. At his side walked a younger man in a robe. Most likely Lindell’s apprentice, his blond hair and beard trimmed neatly.
As Kasparian and his eight disciples barged in, Lindell’s forehead wrinkled. “What is this? Who are you?” he said, his voice powerful for an older man.
“Take him,” Kasparian commanded.
Mura and two others moved to the bishop and dragged him along.
The robed man grabbed Mura by her shoulder. “Stop! What are you doing?”
She wrenched free and pushed him so hard that he fell to the floor.
Kasparian looked deep into the bishop’s eyes. “Do as we ask, and by my word, no harm will come to you,” he said as his disciples dragged Lindell on.
“Your word? What good is the word of a criminal who has defied everything we stand for?” Lindell grunted.
Kasparian sighed. Lindell knew who he was. Had the bishops of Kanthos warned him? Was that the reason why they had hunters watching the town?
The disciples pulled Lindell through his own quarters and out the back door. However, as they exited, they froze just outside, leaving no place for Kasparian.
Kasparian squeezed through, “Go on, we have to…” Stepping into the clearing, he realised why his disciples had stopped.
Two men and a woman were there, dressed in green and brown clothes, perfectly camouflaging them in the dark forest. It was the hunters, and they had arrows aimed at them.
“Let him go,” snarled the woman, curling her lip at Mura and the other disciple holding Lindell. She had piercing brown eyes that perfectly matched the colour of her hair.
Mura turned her head and looked back at Kasparian, who found himself surprised by the look in her eyes. It wasn’t fear or doubt. Mura was silently asking for permission to attack.
Kasparian looked at the three hunters. He’d feared it might come to this. They wanted to help people, so they needed Lindell, but the hunters would never understand. “We won’t harm your bishop. We need his help,” he tried to explain.
“You have a strange way of asking for help,” the brown-haired woman said. “Last warning!” She pulled the bowstring back another two centimetres.
Kasparian couldn’t let Mura or the others do his dirty work. He already had many lives on his conscience, so what would a few more do? He pulled the sceptre from his belt and forced it out between two of his disciples who stood between him and the hunters. “Proiecto masa.”
All three of the hunters’ eyes widened, but none managed to dodge as dozens of flaming projectiles blasted through their bodies. Their arrows flew, but only one hit its mark, digging into Lee’s shoulder.
The young man cried out in pain, and Kasparian placed his hand over his mouth. “Get to the horses, quick.” He looked down at the three bodies on the ground, exhaling heavily before running off with his disciples.
As Kasparian took the first step into the forest, now sheltered by the trees, the sound of a hammer ringing a bell rang out.
“You should have let me help,” argued Mura as they ran through the forest as fast as they could, dragging Lindell along.
“It wasn’t your burden,” breathed Kasparian, looking back at several shadows moving between the trees. “But you might still get your chance.”
Lee groaned, doing everything to keep pace with them, the arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder.
Arriving at the horses, Kasparian jumped onto the back of his mare and signalled for Mura. She shoved Lindell up, and Kasparian pulled the bishop to the back of his horse. “Hold on,” he grunted.
Lindell’s expression was grim, looking up at his kidnapper. “W-why are you doing this? The bishops have condemned you to death. Is this about money?”
Kasparian snorted. “What I need is worth far more than all the wealth of this world.”
As they raced through the forest, pine needles whipping into their arms and faces, several arrows whistled past them. None of them came too close. The hunters clearly didn’t want to hurt their precious bishop.