Winged Warrior fl-7 Read online

  Winged Warrior

  ( Forgotten legacy - 7 )

  Richard S. Tuttle

  Richard S. Tuttle

  Winged Warrior

  Prologue

  Thousands of years ago…

  The High Priest of Kaltara opened his eyes. He peered through the fog of delirium at the faces gazing down on him. He watched the faces incomprehensibly as their mouths moved, but their voices were jumbled and distant, their eyes sad and worried. The priest closed his eyes once again as the rivers of sweat trickled over his burning body like tiny creeks flowing through a forest fire. He offered a silent prayer to Kaltara to ease the pain that was racing through his body, but the nearby voices intruded into his meditation.

  “He is burning with fever,” one voice came through clearly. “Nothing can be done for him. His end is near.”

  “Nonsense,” retorted anther voice, “Kaltara is testing him. He is strong in his faith. He will survive. Mark my words.”

  A commotion ensued as another person entered the room. The priest forced his eyes open to see what was happening. His vision had cleared somewhat, and he recognized the king entering the room. The others present bowed before the royal ruler of Angragar. King Regis ignored the people in the room and walked directly to the bed. He knelt next to the bed and took the priest’s clammy hand in his own.

  “You are burning, Vand,” the king said softly. “Let us pray together for your healing.”

  Vand’s eyes locked on the monarch’s face for a brief moment before he forcibly pulled his hand away. A pall of shock fell over the king’s face at the reaction of the priest, but Vand did not care. He did not need the king to pray for him. He was the High Priest, after all. If Kaltara would listen to anyone, it would be Vand’s words that would be heard.

  “Get out of my chambers,” Vand said as forcefully as he could. “All of you leave. I need no help to speak to Kaltara. Get out.”

  The king stared at the High Priest for several moments before rising and shaking his head sadly. He turned to the others in the room and waved them towards the door.

  “We shall gather in the temple and offer our prayers there,” declared King Regis. “The High Priest is delirious and needs his rest. All of you come with me.”

  Vand scowled as the king led the others out of the room. When they were finally gone, Vand shook his head with disgust, rivulets of perspiration spraying the bed covers.

  “Delirious?” snapped Vand as he pushed the covers away and painfully swiveled his legs to the side of the bed. “I am the Voice of Kaltara! I do not need others to pray for me. It is through me that Kaltara’s word is carried to the people.”

  Vand struggled to his feet and pulled a robe over his head to cover his body. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but he knew that he had to do something, or his high position would be taken by one of the upstarts under him. He was not about to cede power to anyone else. He was the High Priest of Kaltara.

  Vand slipped out of his chambers and into the alley outside the building. Several passersby looked at him with curiosity, and Vand scowled at them. The citizens averted their gaze and quickened their steps away from the priest. Vand wavered on his feet as he walked along the alley. He stopped and leaned against the wall for support. His mind whirled in a fog as he tried to figure out what it was that he must do to get well. The greatest healers in the city had already visited him, and there was nothing that they could do. Maybe his only course of action was to ignore his pain and carry on with the duties of the High Priest.

  “May I help you, High Priest?” a melodic voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “I need no help,” spat Vand as he stared at the young woman. “Be on your way.”

  The woman frowned as she gazed at the High Priest. She shook her head sadly and said, “Kaltara would wish me to help others in any way that I can, but I will not fight with the High Priest of Kaltara. Still, others will continue to offer their help if you continue to travel unaided. You appear to be deathly ill. If you do not wish to be bothered by others, let me walk with you. I shall accompany you to wherever you are going and nothing more. Is that acceptable?”

  Vand’s forehead creased severely as he digested the woman’s words. What she said was true, and he did not wish to be bothered by every citizen that passed by. Slowly, he nodded his acceptance.

  The woman took the priest’s arm and started walking him towards the mouth of the alley. Several people looked curiously towards the couple, but no one came forward to help. When they reached the street, Vand hesitated, unsure of which direction to turn.

  “Where are we going?” asked the woman. “Shall I guide you to a healer?”

  “I have already seen the healers,” scowled Vand.

  The woman frowned heavily as she stared at the priest. Finally, she sighed and nodded her head.

  “To the Asylum then?” she asked.

  “The Asylum?” balked the priest. “Their potions and elixirs are nothing more than swamp water. There are no healing properties in such trash.”

  “I was thinking more of the Pit of Death,” the woman said softly. “If the healers cannot cure what ails you, what choice is left?”

  “The Pit of Death?” Vand echoed as his eyes grew large. “There is no such thing.”

  “Perhaps there isn’t,” shrugged the woman as she saw the priest’s body begin to quiver, “but the walk will do you good.”

  Vand stared at the woman as if he were looking through her. For several long moments, he remained silent. Finally, he nodded his head.

  “The walk will be good,” he said nervously. “Just feeling the breeze upon me has already eased the pain. Lead me to the Asylum so that I may expose the nonsense surrounding the mythical Pit of Death.”

  The woman led the priest through the city streets of Angragar towards the north end of the city. When they reached the door to the elixir shop called The Asylum, Vand waved the woman away. She nodded without comment and left the priest. Vand stood staring through the doorway of the shop for several moments before he entered it.

  The old woman who ran the shop looked up nervously as the High Priest entered. Her eyes immediately swept the room to see if anyone was present before greeting the priest.

  “It’s not often we get such distinguished customers,” the woman said hesitantly as she worried that the priest was there to cause trouble. “How may I aid you?”

  Vand ignored the woman as he picked up a potion and gazed at it. Abruptly, he put the potion back on the table and turned to storm out of the shop. That was when the woman saw the back of Vand’s sweat-soaked robe.

  “You need more than potions,” the woman said softly as she realized that the priest was not there to demand her closure. “What you seek is down the stairs. Go before other customers enter the shop and see you.”

  Vand hesitated at the door. He turned and looked questioningly at the woman, but she ignored his gaze. She turned and walked to the back of the room and began moving potions around on the shelf. Vand’s eyes wavered from the doorway leading to the street to the top of the stairs leading downward. A sudden shout from the street outside the shop jolted the priest out of his indecisiveness. He headed for the stairs and proceeded downward.

  Vand descended the stairs into a large cavernous room. In the center of the room was a large pit of hot mud and several people were lounging in it. An old man immediately approached the newcomer.

  “Remove your robe,” instructed the old man. “There are hooks over there to hang it on.”

  “I am not here to dally in hot mud,” scowled the priest. “I expected…something more.”

  “Ah,” the old man replied softly as he nodded his head. “There are dangers involved. Are you sure?”
/>   “Am I sure?” retorted the priest. “No, I am not sure. I do not even believe in such nonsense, but others tell me that you claim to have the mythical Pit of Death down here.”

  “There is nothing mythical about it,” countered the old man. “It is the last resort for those whose life is ending. It can save your life, but the cost is steep.”

  “Steep?” questioned the priest.

  “You may die once you enter the Pit of Death,” the old man said quietly. “Or you may be cured and allowed to live a healthy life once again. The price to enter is all of your worldly belongings.”

  “All of my belongings?” Vand balked a little too loudly.

  The customers in the mud pit looked to see who was talking, and the old man guided Vand towards the rear of the room and away from the others.

  “If you die,” shrugged the old man, “you will have no need of your belongings. If you are healed, we will tear the paper up, and it will have cost you nothing. What good are belongings to a dead man?”

  “It sounds like a way to make yourself wealthy at the expense of others,” snarled the priest. “I should have you shut down and run out of the city.”

  “I suppose that you have the power to do so,” shrugged the old man, “but then your life will be lost. Look at you. You are practically dead already. I am surprised that you even made it here without help. I will get the contract for you to sign. If you don’t wish to live any longer, then leave and have us closed down.”

  The old man turned and left. Vand watched him leave, his mind filled with fury. He seethed as he rolled the man’s words through his mind. No one dared to talk to the High Priest of Kaltara in the manner the old man had. He would make that man sorry for his impertinence. He would indeed have the shop closed. Yet, Vand’s feet did not move towards the stairs. In a few moments, the old man returned with a contract. He handed it to the priest. Vand snarled as he grabbed the contract. His hands moved to tear the paper in two, but he did not have the strength to do so.

  “I know the decision is a hard one,” the old man said encouragingly, “but there really is no choice in the matter. Only the Pit of Death can save you now. I doubt you even have the strength to ascend the stairs. Sign the contract.”

  Vand stared at the contract, his mind refusing to comprehend the words written upon it. Finally he scrawled his name on the contract and shoved it into the old man’s hands.

  “What happens next?” asked the priest.

  “I cannot say,” smiled the old man as he led the priest around the corner of the cave and into a short corridor with a door at the end of it. “You enter through this door. That is all that I can tell you. Go quickly while you are still able to walk.”

  The old man opened the door and held it. Vand peered into the dark space beyond and saw only an extremely small room, barely large enough for a person to stand it.

  “What foolishness is this?” scowled Vand. “You want me to stand in a closet?”

  “You cannot comprehend it yet,” assured the old man. “Enter it quickly.”

  Vand thought about grabbing the old man and squeezing the life out of him, but he knew that he was too weak to even attempt it. Obediently, the priest walked into the closet, and the old man immediately shut the door.

  Vand stood in the darkness waiting for something to happen, but nothing happened. His rage grew by the second as he realized that he had just been tricked out of his belongings. Suddenly, fear coursed though the priest’s body as he realized that the contract was only valid if he died. Fearful of the thought that the old man had locked him in the closet to die, Vand’s hand shot out to open the door. The door opened easily, and Vand sighed with relief. The relief lasted only a second.

  As the door opened wider, brilliant light shot into the small closet, and burning heat hit the priest like a shockwave. Vand’s brow creased as he stared into a vast wasteland, bright sunlight sparkling off the rolling hills of sand. Vand shook his head to clear the mirage from his vision, but the image did not go away. Slowly, Vand ventured through the door and into the wasteland. His eyes scanned the vastness around him. Tall mountains rose in the distance, and lava flowed down the slopes. Smoke curled upward from the mountainous peaks and a harsh wind whipped across the desert floor. Grains of sand slammed into the priest with stinging regularity, and Vand turned to retreat into the closet, but the doorway was gone. He stood shaking his head in confusion as his eyes gazed over the vast desert behind him.

  “I must be delirious,” Vand said to himself.

  Vand turned in a circle, bringing up his arms to protect his face from the stinging sand. He saw no exit from the wasteland.

  “Am I dead?” Vand asked himself. “Is this what comes after life?”

  “Is this what you want to come after death?” boomed a loud voice.

  Vand gasped as he turned swiftly to find the source of the voice. His mind swam as he moved, and the priest fell to the desert floor.

  “Who are you?” Vand shouted loudly. “Show yourself.”

  One of the lava-spitting volcanoes suddenly moved. Vand rubbed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. He watched with morbid curiosity as a body formed out of the volcano. A grotesque creature towered over the distant mountains and laughed deeply. The creature was monstrous and black. Horns sprouted for its head, and its eyes were like molten lava. The ground thundered as the beast walked towards Vand, but the priest could not take his eyes off of the demon. He saw sharp claws protruding from the creature’s hands and feet. When the creature laughed, Vand saw a snout full of huge sharp teeth. The priest quivered in fear.

  “You are Dobuk,” the priest said accusingly.

  “And you are my next meal,” laughed the beast, “but not before you have suffered greatly.”

  Vand rolled over and got to his knees. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and began praying to Kaltara for help. Vand’s concentration was broken when the demon’s claws snared the priest and lifted him towards its mouth. Vand screamed as he gazed into the cavernous snout that would become his grave.

  “I know you,” the beast said suddenly. “You are Kaltara’s puppet. What is your name?”

  “I am Vand, High Priest of Kaltara,” the priest said proudly. “Have your way with my body. You have no power over me. Kaltara will save me.”

  “Save you?” laughed Dobuk as he tossed the priest’s body to the floor of the desert. “The High Priest of Kaltara should know better. You have entered my domain willingly, Vand. No one can save you now except me.”

  The Great Demon waved a claw in the air, and Vand started screaming. The priest shrieked as his robe burst into flames, and his skin began to sear. Vand’s hands flew inward and began ripping the burning robe from his body. He flung the burning scraps to the desert floor, but his actions offered no relief. The priest’s skin burst into flames, and Vand frantically rolled around trying to extinguish the flames. All he succeeded in doing was causing the sand to stick to his burning skin.

  “Have mercy!” cried Vand. “Kill me, but end this torment.”

  “Have mercy?” smirked the Great Demon. “Were you talking to me? My name is Dobuk. Let me hear you say it.”

  Vand bit his lip hard in an effort to stop screaming. It did not work, but the action did succeed in slicing the lip open. The priest spit a mouthful of blood into the sand and screamed hysterically.

  “Have mercy, Dobuk,” pleaded the priest. “I cannot stand the pain.”

  The demon’s snout split in a broad grin. He waved his claw and the fires immediately extinguished, the soaring wind died, and the sand settled to the floor of the desert.

  “You have spirit, priest,” declared Dobuk. “I may strike a bargain with you this day.”

  Vand gazed at his charred limbs, afraid to touch the skin in case in peeled off and fell into the sand.

  “What bargain?” Vand asked nervously. “I have signed all of my belongings away to gain entry here. I have nothing left to offer. Still, I beg for your mercy.”
/>   “You have your life to offer,” grinned the demon.

  “My life is over,” sighed the priest. “If you wish me dead, I will not fight you. Take my life and be done with it.”

  “That would be your death,” countered Dobuk. “That would mean nothing to me, but your life can be valuable. Renounce Kaltara and become my priest.”

  “Impossible,” Vand shook his head vigorously. “Kaltara would strike me dead instantly.”

  “An instant death is what you desire,” smirked the demon, “but you have no fear in that regard. Kaltara will not touch you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Vand. “Why would Kaltara not punish me for abandoning him?”

  “You have already abandoned him,” chuckled the demon. “The moment you walked through that door, you gave up your faith in Kaltara. You failed his test, Priest. Now your life is mine to do with as I please.”

  A look of shock came over Vand’s face, but he realized the truth of the demon’s statement. Kaltara had been testing him, and Vand had failed. He rebuked the king and the other priests who had gathered to help. He had placed himself above the people as the only one to know Kaltara. He had let vanity and pride defeat his holiness.

  “I am an old man,” Vand said softly. “I do not have much life left in me. What would you have me do?”

  “I will determine the number of your days,” retorted Dobuk. “If I were gracious enough to allow you to return to Angragar, your days would be limited, but I have other plans for you. How would you like to live for thousands of years?”

  “Thousands of years?” echoed the priest. “That is impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” the demon grinned mischievously. “Be my priest, and you will rule the world for centuries. Multitudes will bow down before you and worship your every word. Your vanity will not be a slight to me as it is to Kaltara. Be vain. Be powerful. Take your revenge against those other inferior mortals.”

  Vand’s eyes grew large as he tried to envision the image that the demon was painting.