Late that afternoon he sensed an ominous change as the crowd outside grew still, an expectant silence that swiftly extended to those within the temple compound as well. From the height of his temple wall, Kelryn saw a masked and armored officer marching at the head of an escort of scaled, hissing draconians. The company advanced down the street toward the Sect of the Black Robe, the throng of refugees parting almost magically before the horrific visage of the officer's leering mask. The awe-inspiring warrior confidently presented himself at the gates of the temple, sending his respects and a message that he wished to speak to the high priest.
Kelryn knew that the time had come to talk. He ordered the gates opened, and the dragonarmy officer, his stature and presence heightened by the grotesque mask, strode boldly into the courtyard. The draconians remained outside, but many more of the sick and wounded citizens of Haven took advantage of the opened gate to pour inside the compound, despite the presence of the sinister warrior.
Meeting the man in the middle of the courtyard, conscious of hundreds of eyes upon him, Kelryn bowed stiffly. "I am the high priest," he declared. He guessed that this was the man he had watched in flight on the previous day-at least, the garish mask and armor were identical to that dragonrider's. The priest felt a small shiver of gratitude that, for now, the great red dragon was nowhere to be seen.
Kelryn Darewind stared at the mask, hating the fanged maw portrayed there, reviling the tiny eyes that glittered at him from the narrow slits above the nose.
"And who is the god you serve?"
"My faith is that of Fistandantilus," Kelryn Darewind proclaimed. "Archmage of the black robes, he has joined the gods in the constellations of the heavens. I merely strive to see that his memory receives its proper due here upon Krynn."
"I see," murmured the officer, though there was something in his voice that belied the statement. Again Kelryn wished to rip that mask away, to confront the human face underneath.
Surprisingly, the officer suddenly obliged by lifting the heavy metal plate from his head and shoulders. He was astonishingly young, the priest thought, with a face masked by strains of sweat and grime, the sparse stubble of several days' beard blue-black on his chin, cheeks, and neck.
With a curt gesture, the man swept his arms outward to indicate the attentive gathered crowd. "If you are in fact a priest, then you should cure those who have been injured. It is not enough that you merely offer them the security of your compound."
Kelryn laughed, a sharp and bitter sound. "Surely you know that no priest, not since the Cataclysm, can heal the hurts of mortal flesh. I merely strive to instruct my flock-"
"No priest?" The officer was mocking, and Kelryn flushed, sensing the tension among his faithful like a lute string pulled taut through the air. He feared suddenly that he was being drawn into a trap.
The dragonrider spun on his heel, turning his back to Kelryn and addressing the gathered populace. "I come to you with a warning and with a promise of hope. For years has Haven been filled with charlatans and pretenders." He spat over his shoulder, and the high priest was forced to sidestep quickly to avoid the spittle.
"You should know that Fistandantilus is not a god, no more so than any of the Seeker deities. These are make-believe faiths, created by fakers such as this man to gather you into his power, to rob and abuse you."
"Liar!" shouted Kelryn, terrified of his own audacity, yet knowing that he could not allow the verbal onslaught to continue. He didn't want to fight, not here, not under these circumstances. Still, he wished that he were wearing his sword, and he resolved to defend himself with the small dagger he wore under his robe if the officer's affronts became even more direct.
Instead of attacking, however, the officer half turned, a sardonic smile upon his lips. He gestured to one of the refugees nearby, a child whose right arm dangled limply in a bloodstained sung. "Come here, lad. It's all right. I won't hurt you."
Wonderingly the boy came forward. Kelryn could not tear his eyes away as the warrior knelt, pulled off his gauntlets, and extended a gentle hand toward the gory cloth. "Know, my son, that there is a goddess who is real and who cares for you."
The man's voice rose as he swept his gaze over the whole throng. "Hear me, all! The Queen of Darkness, Takhisis herself, commands your obedience. But know that she offers rewards, riches, and power in return!"
The warrior touched the injured arm. The boy stood still, trembling, as the man ducked his head. "Listen to my prayers, Dark Lady who is my mistress and soon shall be queen of all the world. This child is innocent; he has done you no wrong. I beseech you, grant me the power to heal his flesh, to make him well that he may serve us, might bring further glory to your name."
"It-it doesn't hurt anymore," stammered the youth, looking with wonder at his arm.
"Take off the bandage." The officer's voice remained gentle, soothing.
Quickly the boy tore at the filthy cloth, casting it aside and raising his arm in the air. A joyful voice cried from the crowd and a woman rushed forward, sweeping the boy into her arms. "He is healed! Yesterday he was certain to lose his arm, and now the wound is gone!"
A gasp rose from the throng, and people, awestruck and wondering, shuffled forward to see this proof of godhood.
"I tell you today of our queen's might and her mercy," proclaimed the officer, rising to his feet, speaking in a voice that resounded from the high temple walls. "There are more priests waiting to soothe your hurts, to teach you the lightness of our new faith. All who would open your ears to the truth, go to the great square of Haven, and there you will learn the ways of the true gods!"
Those people closest to the gate were already leaving at a run. With a restive murmur, a sound that grew into a low cheer, the rest of the crowd seemed to understand the command, embrace the hope it offered. Kelryn stood still, seething, watching the sardonic smile play across the dragonrider's face as the congregation, the refugees, even many of the Faithguards fled the temple in the face of this miracle. Only when the last of the once loyal followers had departed the gates did the man turn back, regarding Kelryn as if the high priest were a mere afterthought.
"You are an affront to true faith," barked the officer. "You deserve only death!"
Kelryn Darewind felt the hot pulse against his chest and pulled the bloodstone of Fistandanrilus forth with a sudden, instinctive gesture. The officer stared at the stone a moment, blinking as his stern expression grew soft and vague.
"Lord Verminaard will use your temple compound as his headquarters." The man shook his head, visibly struggling to gain control of his thoughts and words. "You have one hour to gather your belongings and leave. If the highlord finds you here upon his arrival, you may expect to die-very slowly."
Kelryn made no reply. He saw the few of his Faith-guards who still remained, those who had been the most loyal of his followers, watching him questioningly. Unconsciously he touched the bloodstone, once again secure under his robe.
"I carry all my needs with me," he said grimly. With a curt gesture, he summoned his remaining men-no more than a dozen-to his side. They fell into step behind him as he stalked through the gates, past the company of leering draconians, to march along Haven's suddenly foreign street.
CHAPTER 13
To his Honor, Patriarch Grimbriar
High Priest of Gilean
Inscribed this year ofKrynn, 372 AC
Your Eminence, I have been surprised to discover, during the course of my research, references of interest in the dragonarmy records pertaining to the fall of Haven and the subsequent occupation by the minions of the Highlord Verminaard. Specifically, there is some reason to believe that one of the great artifacts of Fistandantilus may have found its way to that chaotic city at some time following the creation of Skullcap and preceding the arrival of the dragonarmies.