Faith Lost: Pandemonium Rising by Michael Sliter

Author:Michael Sliter [Sliter, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

“I say you again, what in the name of Yetra are you Wasmer doing here?” the Taneo asked, his powerful voice echoing through the worship room. The three dozen attendants sitting in their benches—laborers, porters, and the working devout—were equally stunned by it. Even the four Glories, the Yetranian soldiers who safeguarded sacred ground, seemed unsure how to react.

“We are just passing through,” Hafgan said, acutely aware of his blood-soaked robes and crimson spear. Yurin’s sword was no better, and he stood off-kilter like a drunkard. For Yurin, that meant he was ready and willing to fight.

“This is not a place of violence; nor is it a thoroughfare,” the Taneo said, divesting himself from the pulpit and approaching them. His Glories, wielding maces and short swords, flanked him. Their eyes were now steely and they seemed ready for action; this Taneo was obviously a well-loved leader of the faith.

“We’ve not time for this, Father,” Hafgan said, using the honorific designated for Offeirs of his own people. Embarrassingly, he knew not the formal term for Taneos. The House had limited dealings with the Yetranian Church. Hafgan moved to push past, and every worshipper stood simultaneously with a clamor. Three dozen judgmental eyes had a power of their own.

“We will also not be aiders and abetters of criminals. Deontis writes, ‘He who turns a blind eye to the misdeeds of others, particularly when he has the means to do otherwise, is a conduit for Pandemonium.’ And, a religious man though I may be, I do have means within these walls.”

There was a thud on the other side of the sturdy oaken doors. Yurin and Sariton threw themselves against the bars, providing the wood a bit more support.

Rhys moved to Hafgan’s side. “Apologies, Lieutenant. It seemed like a good idea,” Rhys said, his voice thick with guilt.

“Bad ideas often do,” Hafgan murmured. More banging sounded on the door behind them, and someone shouted “Open up in the name of Lord Faris” with a thick accent. The Menogans wielded the power of legitimate authority carelessly.

“Father, please. I recognize this be looking… this looks bad….” It was bad. And it was their fault. “But those covered in blood are sometimes victims as much as aggressors. There was a riot, and the Wasmer were targeted. We—my brother and I—were unable to turn a blind eye, as your Deontis says. We had the power to protect them when the opportunity to flee was much more obvious, and the much easier path. We are being… we are obligated to do the right thing, even when some blood must be shed.”

The Taneo considered Hafgan and the other Wasmer, even as the shouting and banging increased on the doors to his chapel. All he needed to do was continue to bar their way until the Menogans broke through. Hafgan, even in his desperation to escape, would not harm these people. Yurin… Yurin might, though.

“Taneo Rickon, they carry weapons dripping with blood into our sacred space!” called a worshipper, her voice thick with anger.

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