The night was cold and Sethlzaar ran through it on an open clearing, stopping at one of the buildings around. There, he bided his time.
Why does it have to be tonight? he thought. Especially now that he's angry. His mind flashed to Cynth, and he shook his head. This was no time to be distracted by the old man, he needed to focus.
"He's awake."Yes., I am.Sethlzaar was pulled back to consciousness by something. Perhaps the voice. Maybe it was something else. But he was awake now. He would begrudge whoever it was later, if the grudge was still there to hold on to.
The test was different from the ones they knew, different from the ones they had. The older boys were not present for it, having left the seminary on a task of sorts. Their spiritual work, the priests called it. A stipulated period of time when they would be at different churches, offering their services to the sisters of the church, whatever it may be, as long as it fell within the confines of the credence.Father Ordan trooped them out of the seminary in the morning before the commencement of the morning mass. They gained the employ of a Tarc, as had been done f
Valerik sat in front of the flame warming his hands, though he needed none of the warmth. He'd never needed help staying warm in the cold, not in a very long time.Helva sat on the other side of the flame, a woman of considerable age. Her head bore a full set of hair, and her skin sagged. She held her hands outstretched before the flame while the stick she seemed unable to walk without laid on the floor beside her. She, unlike him, needed the fire.
Sethlzaar sat uncomfortably in the seat. The cushion was plush, a very delicate touch to his butt, unlike what the seminary was prone to offering. Its size was massive enough to accommodate a second person. It was decorated with embroidery of such beauty only the best in the art could have done it, and the wood was carved beautifully with intricate designs of its own. It was a throne in itself.However, what he sat on was not the source of his discomfort. It waswherehe sat: The sanctuary of the Arslagh head church of Truth, the
Sethlzaar walked the compound grounds of the parish house. The ground was muddied, the signs of the rainfall from the last night could be noticed from the puddles of water around the compound. The noon air was cold. And though the sun was out, its heat was absent.It was Sethlzaar's last week in the parish, and he had finally succumbed to Sister Elorha's pleas to indulge her in a stroll around the compound.
Darkness threatened to engulf Sethlzaar as his fears welled up from within him. He knew it very well. It was a companion he took solace in, and a companion he had grown to fear. Soon the eyes watched, and the hilts beckoned, and he dreamed in the day. However, his watchers made no entrance, only the blades. Taunting. Teasing. Beckoning. He knew where he was. Out with Father Kazaril, he told himself, capturing a touched.This dream was different from the ones he knew. Not only did his watchers prove absent, the h
The next morning, they came for Jazabil, blades drawn as they stood guard. Today Commander Olann was not among them. The soldiers of the King's blade pulled her by the chain that held her to the wall, dragging her out of the church, Father Kezaril following behind them, scorn marring his face while she spat curses at him in a language Sethlzaar didn't understand. He didn't need to understand her words to know, though.He watched it all from the window of his room. It was surreal knowing she was to be burned at high noon. The woman he had spoken with last night would cease to exist before the
The feel of the seminary was a welcomed one. Sethlzaar and his brothers had given up their cloaks for white cassocks, ones, unlike those of the official cassocks of the priests, was without capes, and now they resided in a tower west of the compound, beyond the smithy. Despite the heights of the towers they now lived in, the ones they had lived in for so long dwarfed them considerably.There was a new addition to their training. It encompasse