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Chapter 3: The Marfa Temple: N’shara’s Healing

    Laies burst in through the doors, startling a few of the priestesses who were in nightly prayer. He held N’shara in the crook of his arms and brought her to the head priestess. He was a little winded, he had ran a lot and N’shara was getting heavier in his tired arms. “Va...mpire attack,” he choked on the air he was exhaling. So much activity had made him feel a little weak in the knees. “I left her only for a mom...ent at the inn.”

    The head priestess instructed Laies to lay N’shara on the altar. Laies complied immediately and stood back to let the priestesses tend to their own. He fell back off his feet onto a pew and sighed deeply. Wisp appeared at his shoulder. The exhausted quarter elf looked to his spirit companion. “You should have stayed with her, Wisp. It would have made her safety even a little more ensured.” Laies shook his head. “No, I’m not even sure if having you near her would have helped.”

    The high priestess was quick in casting a healing spell. The gashes Aryen tore into N’shara’s throat closed and disappeared, but the young priestess had lost quite a bit of blood. Once the bleeding had stopped, N’shara relaxed and passed out. Adrenaline and sheer force of will had kept her barely conscious as Laies carried her, and now, she no longer had to fight.

    Exhaling heavily, the high priestess leaned against the altar, looking N’shara’s body over. Her robe was ruined, stained with blood on the left shoulder, and her pendant and circlet were missing. The vampire probably felt offended by them and removed them.

    “Sisters Marla and Belina, get a stretcher and gather the strongest healers in temple,” the high priestess ordered the two of the priestesses who were in the chapel with her when Laies entered. “Sister Adane, find some of the other priestesses and go to the Falis and Cha Za temples. We’ll need their best healers, and we’ll have to participate to track down this vampire.”

    “Yes, Mother Deasa,” the priestesses replied, almost in unison, then hurried away to their respective tasks.

    “Laies, you said you only left for a moment? Where was she attacked?” Deasa asked the ex-knight.

    Laies looked up. “The Drake Street Inn. We had settled down to dinner after I showed her around the town. I went off to pay my respects to my father’s grave...” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have left her side. This wouldn’t have happened if I stayed, I’m sure of it.” He clenched his fists. Guilt was eating at him from inside, the fact that he left her unattended with so many other people in the inn, and then he found her in that room, weak, hurt, food to a demon in human flesh. Laies’s head snapped up. “...Other people...” he murmured. “Excuse me priestess, I’ll return shortly. If I have time, I’d like to inquire at the scene of the crime as to the description and possible identity of the vampire.”

    “That’s a good idea, Laies,” said Deasa, glancing over her shoulder. “N’shara will require several hours of prayer to regenerate the blood she lost.”

* * *

    At the urging of her high priestess, Boath, a priestess of Marfa hurried to the nearby Falis temple. A visiting priestess had apparently been bitten by a vampire, and though she survived, she had lost a lot of blood. A simple healing spell wouldn’t help, the wounded priestess would need materials—in other words, food—and a spell that would increase her regeneration speed. The small local temple didn’t have many priestesses, and they needed help from other temples. They also had to alert the other temples to the fact that a vampire was loose in Dragon Eye.

    Boath was trembling through the entire walk, terrified that the vampire might leap out of the shadows and attack her too. However, she arrived safely at the Falis temple. The stout little Marfa priestess entered the main chapel, seeking out the Falis priests.

    What Boath arrived to was a congregation of them, even this late. There was quite a commotion in the main hall. Whispers of the “Hunter of the Damned” echoed through the grand halls of the regal temple. As Boath made her way through the crowd, looking for the high priest, she stumbled chest to chest with what looked to be a knight, though several holy symbols hung from heavy chains around his neck. For someone as honored as he appeared to be, there was no kindness in his face. It seemed Boath was too late to warn this temple. They already knew:

    “I am certain of it. The foul-blooded monster is here. I tracked it from a farm outside of the city,” the towering knight said.

    “Surely, you know where he is,” the high priest responded, his face a torrent of concern. The others seemed to be holding onto a similar hope.

    “If I did, I would not be here,” Rone said. Others whispered his stories excitedly behind Boath. Rumors of how he slaughtered his first vampire with nothing but a pitchfork. How Rone hunted some of the most powerful vampires ever known. Varying stories of reality and impossibility, but all were impressive. They seemed to match his stature.

    “I know not his name, nor his appearance. We have heard nothing of it,” replied the priest. “You may rest and recharge here, if you need it.”

    “No,” Rone said sternly, obviously lacking the kindness of other priests or knights, of which he appeared to be some strange combination of. “I have suspects to follow and murders to hunt.” As he turned past the high priest of the temple, the Cross of Falis swung into Boath’s view. It was the highest honor for the priests of Falis, representing the greatest services of the light that they have dedicated themselves to.

    With the same dark look, Rone began to march out of the temple, frustrated...

    Boath was surprised to hear the talk of a vampire at the temple. It seemed that the warrior priest was a vampire hunter, and must have been tracking the same vampire that bit N’shara.

    “Wait” she had called, the girl who had run into him. Rone almost didn’t stop. He was on a single mind now. Surely, the vampire would have already attacked someone by then. His prayers to Falis were not enough to hold the beast of a man back. He had to find that first target. That first victim. The famed Rone Kalmaine decided that, if there was value to her works, he could not afford to pass it up. While this vampire could not hide his tracks on the road, it would be easy to hide them in a city.

    The hard-faced man swung around, his old gray cloak chasing after him in the breeze from the steps of the temple. She could see his array of weapons: a crossbow, a sword, and a mace. He was equipped for war. The sword was an odd piece, considering the god he followed. Logic could only dictate it had a special purpose. “Do you have information that they do not, priestess?” he said in a deep, commanding voice. It was bordering intimidating.

    “Yes!” Boath gasped urgently. The short, stout priestess was eager to lead him away, pausing only long enough to explain. “A priestess of Marfa was just bitten! She’s at the Marfa temple now. Come with me! Hopefully she’ll be conscious enough to explain soon.”

    “Godspeed, priestess,” the hunter ordered gruffly. “In the unfortunate circumstances of others, Falis has brought you to me. My work shall be completed.”

    Boath glanced back toward the Falis temple, remembering that her entire purpose for coming was to gather powerful healers. “Hold on for just a moment,” Boath said, then hurried back up the steps of the temple.

    A few moments later, the Marfa priestess returned with three of the strongest healers the Falis temple had to offer. Her duty finished, she led the way back to the Marfa temple as quickly as she could.

* * *

    Priestess Boath returned to the Marfa temple after Laies had left, leading Rone and three other priests of Falis. In the time she had been gone, N’shara and Deasa had left the chapel, but a young priestess was scrubbing the altar where N’shara had been laid. Without a pause, Boath led the Falis priests to the temple’s infirmary.

    The entire temple was bustling with activity, but the infirmary was rather serene, despite how crowded it was. N’shara was laid out on a bed and tucked under the blankets. Her bloodied robes had been removed, though no one had redressed her yet. Her exotic skin was ashy, her eyes sunken, and she was in a deep sleep. Deasa and several other mature priestesses sat around N’shara, in prayer, while a younger priestess sponged the blood off N’shara’s neck. There was a strange smell in the air, coming from the temple’s kitchen. A batch of herbal potion was being brewed for N’shara that would help her body regenerate the lost blood, along with healings to speed up the process.

    Rone spared no time accelerating his speed in the infirmary. He wanted to beat the other healers to the priestess. His presence was so foreboding that it took the girl washing N’shara’s neck aback long enough for the harsh priest to shove her hand away carelessly. Rone’s strong hands pushed her face to the side. The priestesses had already healed the vampire’s tooth marks shut. They were the only real reason there would be blood on her neck. He would have preferred it if they hadn’t done that until he saw her. The bastard managed to bite her. A frown carved out of his stoic face. His head still covered by the hood of his cloak, he looked more evil than good.

    The other Falis priests approached, but Rone pushed them away. “Wait,” the gruff hunter ordered sharply, looking over N’shara. Most priests were not as specifically trained as he, so his blessing would come first. His rough hand wrapped around her neck as he began to utter a prayer. “Falis, lord of light and warrior against evil, pulse your strength into her veins and renew her victimized form.” The holy power surged through her veins suddenly, striking the priestess like lightning. The shock blessing was made to help her recover from any effects specific to unnatural attacks. It wouldn’t last long, but the healing would be more effective.

    Rone looked at his hand, covered in the blood of the priestess. To the surprise of everyone around him, he put his hand to his lips and tasted N’shara’s blood himself. “Get her revived,” Kalmaine ordered, moving away from her bedside. “We have no time. When she is able to speak, I will be the first one to sit with her.” The priest grabbed a cloth and wiped the rest of the priestess’ blood from her hands. The sanctioned vampire hunter turned to Boath. “Fetch your superiors and anyone involved. Tell them Rone Kalmaine seeks urgent audience with them.” The vampire hunter hated using his fame to get things, but sometimes it became necessary. Surely, at the very least, the high priest of this temple would know of his work...

    “Ahem,” Deasa cleared her throat behind Rone. The very priestesses he wanted to speak to were already gathered around N’shara’s bed when he entered. “I am the high priestess,” she spoke up. “We’re doing all we can, but when she wakes is up to her. She’s lost too much blood. There was a young man with her, Laies Il Luminous. He went back to the inn he found her at.”

    “For the safety of the many, you should help her speed it up,” Kalmaine responded quickly, both to the high priestess and to the Falis priests Boath had brought with her. “I am Rone Kalmaine, Bearer of the Cross of Falis and Hunter of the Damned,” he said officially, reciting his titles. “It is my purpose to seek the unnatural and remove it for the sake of all. Your vampire is no fool and he has cruelly innocent tastes. I have been trailing him for days. He is new to this city since my catching wind of him, but he is wise in his ways. The city provides the most foul sustenance and the best places to hide. You can track little on city streets. At this point, the slightest of clues can make the difference. I would expect his kind not to stay long. He has opened his presence to the holy, so, if he is not gone from this city already, he will probably be gone soon. I mean no insult, but normally, I would be angry at your kind for taking away one of my pieces of evidence. Luckily for me, the death of another has already told me of his strength and how violent he is.” Rone scratched his head, pushing the hood away from his gruff face. “I expect him to continue going after finer, feminine blood. Before here, he chose a well-to-do young farm girl. As far as I know, it is certainly a he with a taste for a certain amount of seduction. He has chosen women, as it seems, based on their innocence. A virgin farm girl and now a Marfa priestess.”

    The holy warrior glanced back over at N’shara. “When this Laies appears, I need to speak to him. We need a face. Also, you should have message send to any nearby temples. If he enjoys priestesses, he may not avoid them in the future. Unfortunately, he may simply choose a nice looking woman anywhere. He will have a choice picking wherever he goes and, short of hysteria, there will be nothing we can do besides ending his life.”

    “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your hunt for a vampire, however, I can assure you, we are doing the best we can to revive her,” Deasa explained to Rone. “In the mean time, if you want to speak to Laies, you may want to seek him out at the Drake Street Inn, or wait for him in the chapel. He’s a pale young man with red eyes and black hair. You will be able to recognize him by his ghostly appearance and the constant company of a will o’ wisp spirit.”

    While Deasa spoke, a young priestess hurried into the infirmary with a steaming pitcher filled with the concoction that was being cooked up in the temple’s kitchen. Other priestesses began to reposition N’shara unconscious body so the brew could be force fed to her.

    “Make sure to summon me as soon as she is conscious. I will not be gallivanting about town just yet,” the holy soldier commanded before turning walking in a very official way. Rone was more of a scare than a comfort to those he walked past with his strong and foreboding appearance, added to the fact that he never smiled, but always looked into the eyes of those he passed. To him, it was a tool. For some vampires, Rone believed Falis would tell him when a vampire looked into his eyes. He had no explanation, no charm or blessing to do so. It was simply a belief.

* * *

    Laies returned through the doors with his shoulders slumped. No one “remembered” who took N’shara off, nor had any information on the name or identity of the vampire. It was like chasing a ghost. He moved to the pew and sat down with a heavy thud. He placed his hand over his face and stared at the ceiling. His will o’ wisp perched on his shoulder and issued a soft glow as if to comfort him. Laies sighed and continued to stare at the ceiling.

    Inside the chapel, his target waited. Laies sat in a pew, so Rone decided to join him. The powerful priest of Falis was even more intimidating in the dark light, with his hood drawn and his face hidden. “You saw it happen,” he said clearly, more as a statement than a question.

    Laies’s red eyes fell on Rone. “Saw what?” he muttered. “I’ve seen a lot of things. What in particular are you talking about?” Laies noted the fact that Rone was a priest of Falis too late to stop his sling of words. Instead of apologizing he waved his hand and sighed. “Still, what does a priest of Falis want to know what I saw?”

    “I am a hunter of the damned, sir,” Rone said. “It is my job to hunt your friend’s assailant with all of the power vested in me. You are a witness to a most unholy crime, or so the priestesses of this place say. Every detail you have is valuable.”

    “I didn’t see him at all,” Laies mentioned. “He left through the window before I could kick down the door. No one at the inn remembers seeing him, nor remembers registering him to the room. It’s like he doesn’t exist.” Laies sighed. “Though, when I find this vampire, I swear there won’t be a shred left of him for hell to take.”

    “What story inn was the priestess assaulted in?” Rone asked carefully, considering things. A one story inn meant nothing, but higher sometimes denoted greater strength in their abilities and wits about escape. Some of the strongest vampires he had faced in all his years could leap from tall buildings and avoid injury. It made them hard to track. “Did he happen to leave anything behind?”

    “He was only on the second floor,” Laies stated. “I could take you to the room, if you’d like. But I doubt that anything is really there.”

    Rone considered it. “We have little time to find the insignificant. Now, our hope lies in your priestess friend. Besides this one’s last victim, she is the only piece of evidence we have to go on. I am waiting on her revival now. From there, I have to give chase. You can wash your hands of the problem now.”

    “Wash my hands of this?” Laies laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m going to kill him. I’ll hunt that bastard down and tear him to shreds with my bare hands. Not you, nor your god, nor even Marfa herself will stop me from exacting hellish revenge upon that misbegotten spawn.”

    Rone sighed. Another vengeful heart, thinking killing a vampire was just like killing anyone else. How many had he seen of this? Even the farmer Rone had encountered before arriving said something similar. Ultimately, the farmer would die, assuming he could find the thing. While Laies seemed better prepared than a farmer, Rone couldn’t help but doubt that Laies knew anything about this kind of thing.

    “If it meant its final death, Falis nor I would stop you. But what do you know of killing their kind? Have you experience with combating them? Powers to resist them? Anything more than an average weapon and an angry heart?” He wanted Laies to understand that his view was foolish and irresponsible. The vampire would not be killed by anger. It would be killed by planning, intellect, and proper preparation. “I know little of you, but I know an eye for vengeance and a sword point will not bring him down alone, assuming you can even find your target in the first place. And how do you intend to track such a being in a city? Have you thought of these things?”

    “I was a knight in service to Moss before this,” Laies announced. “As far as how vampires die, I assume that they are like most things that walk in the dark and fear fire. Fire I can handle to some degree as I am also a shaman. Death comes to most things when they are either alight or beheaded. If that isn’t enough, then I’ll behead then burn. There is really no difference to me.” Laies growled and narrowed his red eyes. He wasn’t fully listening to Rone. “I’ll hunt him down, even if I have to resort to my dark elf ancestry to exact vengeance for hurting N’shara.”

    “Your’s is a fools errand. Falling to any level of darkness will make you the same as your foe. Already, your heart is better suited to Falaris in this task. But no, you won’t succeed. This priestess follows Marfa and should know that vengeance is no reason to begin battle. And you a knight and a shaman. You should know the same things. Your masters, have they not taught you better?” This was dangerous. It was worse that he was ordained in knighthood, because it gave Laies confidence that others might not have. Shamanism improved it further. And yet, Rone was sure that Laies would fail.

    The grim hunter shook his head slowly. “As it is, the vampire already controls you through your pain. These beings will twist you until you die. You won’t make it as you are now.” Rone paused, looking down. The idea that ran through his head was against his better judgment, but, as it was, Rone had an unprecedented condition: he sympathized with him. “You are using the wrong weapons. Let me teach you the right ones. We can hunt him together.”

    Laies glared at Rone. “You assume too much. You think that being a dark elf has something to do with Falaris. That’s like saying all humans are ignorant apes.” Laies pushed up to his feet. He shook his head and put his spite behind him. “Regardless, you say you’ll help me hunt this bastard? Then I’ll help you.”

    “And you assume that I was speaking of your race when I said that. Your race has nothing to do with it. Your words do,” Rone replied quickly. Race did have something to do with it, he knew, but he wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t like dark elves. He never did. They lived on Marmo. All sorts of things that stood with Falaris were there. How could he not assume it? He wouldn’t tell Laies that, though. Rone wasn’t the idealistic man that Valis priests and knights could be. He was realistic in everything he did and, if a priestess of Marfa accepted him, it was good enough for him as proof that he wasn’t as dark as his brethren. Most priests tended to not put much merit in other faiths, but Rone knew better. Followers of Marfa could always tell the good from bad. If this woman chose him as a companion, he had little fear of betrayal.

    “I am duty bound to hunt this vampire to his final death. It is my purpose in life. It is why I am here in this temple. It is why I am speaking to you. It is why I am going to give this to you to borrow,” Rone said, pulling out an old, leather bound tome and holding it out to Laies. “Look through it when you have time to. It will separate the myths from the truth of the one you hunt. Very few, even in my order, are given such an opportunity to read these works. Consider it to be how we bind ourselves in this task.”

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