An immediate chill went through Hilko. The most precious object on the island, the Nalith, was the most remarkable symbol used by the Conclave of Chara.
“The Priests of the Conclave will never rest trying to find us for stealing that orb.”
“No, you can’t be right,” he insisted. “Nobody but the Chara gets to see this relic. How can you know this?”
Silna shook her head.
“This has to be the Nalith. A bastard merchant who got me jailed once told my brother and me about seeing the procession from a window when he worked as a servant. He said you could see the green glow of the orb in the evening parade.”
“You can’t be right.”
“No, I’m sure of this! Remember, Regaar said they only come to this place two times a year; the priests show the Nalith to the world during the two festivals. That worthless one-eyed pufta is going to get us killed!”
Hilko moved away from the display.
“That demon bastard!” Her eyes were wide in fear and wonder at the object they beheld. “If we touch anything on this slab, the sentinels and priests put us in the gibbet. After we starve, they’ll leave our bodies over the tunnels for all to see.”
“What do we do?” Her pleading tone caught Hilko’s attention.
“We can’t go back to Regaar with nothing. He’ll just kill us faster.”
The runner-turned-thief nodded while looking over the altar, his mind grasping for ideas.
“Maybe we can take some of the gold objects. There’s a lot of hamar’s worth right here. Stick enough gold in his face; perhaps he will let us go. If he doesn’t, there are only two of them. Maybe you can handle them with your club.”
Silna turned, leaned against the altar, and slid to a sitting position.
“Remember, he warned us not to take anything else. Besides, I don’t think I can take out both of them. I know Regaar has great skill with that sword. Do you think he won’t be ready for us?”
“We’re dead!” She lowered her eyes.
Hilko stared at the orb, wanting to find something magical that would suddenly whisk them away from the island. He decided he did not like the green glow. Hilko then focused on the shallow, saucer-shaped holder with a silver crystal edged with Chara symbols. He walked around the altar, inspecting the silver-looking disk, which revealed the same characters on four sides of the cup edge.
“Wait a minute; it’s not the Nalith that Regaar wants. Remember, he told us to get a silver disk!” Hilko insisted.
“Look, the Nalith crystal is sitting on the disk. We’re not taking the orb, just this silver stand. Those priests can get something else to hold it. After we are gone, they might try to find us, but how much will they really care? They will seal up the shaft coming into the chamber.”
Hilko grew excited as he talked. Silna rose to her feet to inspect the disk.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But I don’t like it.” the woman looked at the grand doors where she could picture the priests entering. “Why steal something that holds the most valuable item around? That makes no sense.”
“Well, think about it. Trying to get rid of the orb would be harder. I’ve smuggled out those small pieces of secadem. Something the size of that orb will have everyone in an uproar.” Hilko placed his face close to the metal holder, squinting at the symbols he couldn’t read.
“It could be some valuable metal that Regaar will meltdown and resale. Or maybe he’s got a deal with the pirates? Hey, I don’t care if we get out of this in one piece and with the hamar. We get off this cursed island, and our worries are over.”
The smuggler carefully felt around the area of the sphere, trying to find any unseen alarm. Gaining confidence that no other traps awaited him, Hilko slowly placed his hand on the orb and cautiously lifted it. Half expecting an alarm to go off, he grabbed the silver disk. The chamber remained quiet. However, he noticed the green glowing orb in his other hand had changed color. The sphere reverted to its natural state of a pasty white crystal. He placed the ball back on the altar, but it remained the same dull white.
“What happened?” Silna whispered breathlessly.
“I don’t know. But I’ve got the disk, and I’m not waiting on guards to find us.”
He moved away from the altar, going down the steps. He grabbed the candle near the hole in the floor when Silna got to him, grabbing his shoulder.
“You need to take it back!”
“Curse that. We get this to Regaar. What happened here is not our problem. He can deal with the Chara.” The thin man slid through her grasp and down the hole out of the vault. Silna looked around, grabbed the candle, and followed him through the hole.
~~~
A long line of horses and people slowly wound through the ancient canyon along a narrow trail in the pitch-black night. Coming from a small coastal village now devoid of any living person, the line of cloaked figures on horseback followed the path to their next hamlet.
Riding the horses were infamous creatures called Gravers. Foul remnants of battle-hardened men brought back from death by Grymr. Each brutal and depraved beast carried unbridled viciousness along with the stench of their flesh. Feeding upon the flesh and blood slowed their decay while giving the monsters their power to move and fight.
Over their shoulders, they carried their trademark war scythe, while their hooded cloaks partially hid their corpse-like pale face. Coal-black eyes held no hints of humanity in a Graver. Yet, the beasts retained the worst attributes of humans. Affixed to their belts were the scalps or fingers of their victims. Grisly trophies gained during their ruthless conquests as their master extended his lethal control over the lands.
And the night gave them an advantage as they deftly dodged the low branches of pine trees and thorny brush along the seldom-used road. The undead soldiers remained eerily silent while their mounts snorted and huffed.
Behind the column, women and children stumbled along with a single long hemp rope tied around their necks. The women struggled to keep the children from falling to the ground. Slow death by strangulation became the fate of those who failed to keep pace, since the mounts would not slow.
Eventually, the possessed horsemen stopped to rest their mounts. After removing the dead bodies of those prisoners who failed to keep up, the monsters culled out several captives. Soon, pitiful screams and groans rose from those pulled away for entertainment. The rest of the prisoners looked away, avoiding the sight of the brutal rapes and torturous deaths of their comrades. However, they could not stop the sounds of the sadistic entertainment. Some villagers covered the children’s ears until their friends finally died. Those waiting to become the next victims prayed to Tqar, the god of the heavens, for mercy. Others contemplated ways to end their suffering quickly.
When they finished their butchery, the Gravers left the bodies to rot on the road as they pushed the caravan to begin their trek again. Soon, they got back on their mounts and began the trek to the next stop. The silent creatures’ only goal was the direction of their next slaughter and conquest, as ordered by the necromancer.
The riders silently crossed into the next village called Dinavar after coming to a bridge at the bottom of the fog-shrouded valley. Along the road, a farmhouse stood out among the fields of barley and emmer on either side. A pair of Gravers peeled away from the group, swiftly descending upon the dark home. The inhuman butchers burst through the door of the small, one-room house filled with sleeping occupants. The man lying in bed could not reach his sword fast enough. A war scythe cut through the husband’s back while his wife tried to escape the bed. The second Graver went after the two screaming children, who died instantly with brutal blows from his weapon.
Only the mournful wails from the terrified and grieving mother escaped when the two beasts descended upon her. The creatures dragged the weeping woman into the yard, where one creature pulled out a water bag and a small clear dagger from a pouch. After driving a sharp crystal weapon deep into the victim’s neck, the Graver watched the dying person shudder. As the soul entered, the crystal dagger instantly transformed into a dull blue hue. The human monsters took turns licking the blade while using the water bag to collect the spurting blood for their meal.
The mounts snorted and grew anxious as the Gravers walked to their black horses, that calmly browsed the nearby grass. They calmed down when the monster placed the crystal dagger back into the enchanted leather bag. After swinging onto their mounts, the inhuman creatures spurred the horses toward the slaughter they heard in the distance. Their comrades were already hard at work in destroying another unfortunate village that failed to submit to their master. Each day, the Gravers took another step closer to the capital city of Cangas.
