Cataclysm: Siege

Part 3: Siege at the Temple

    Michael shook his head as he saw the dark form of Thavirat's army on the horizon. There were too many, that he knew. There were at most twenty people inside the temple, and he was the only one among them who had any sort of fighting experience. Not that it had done a great deal of good at his last battle, he reflected. Father Dabiri crossed his line of vision, digging at the ground with a shovel. The action seemed so odd to Michael that he had to take a moment to make sure he was actually seeing it.
    "What are you doing?" Michael said, confused and more than a little irate.
    "I am digging a circle around the temple. I am nearly done now." Dabiri answered, not looking up from his work.
    "Fine time to dig a moat. You've got all of ten minutes to finish, you realize."
    "I know." Dabiri moved back and continued the circle. Michael could spot the place where he had begun, and the priest was indeed close to being finished.
    "And what do you hope to accomplish by digging a trench two inches deep? Shouldn't you be inside making sure that the temple can withstand an attack?" Michael found himself becoming more annoyed with the man's strangeness every moment.
    "It is a circle of warding. And we need not make sure that the temple can withstand an attack, because their army will never pass this line."
    Michael sighed and gave up trying to reason with the man. Michael knew the truth- they were all going to be massacred by the oncoming hoard. He supposed that if he were going to die, then it would be at this battle.
    "Where is my sword?" Michael asked. "I do not have the faith you have, and I want something to fall back on."
    "Your sword is being tended to by the clerics. You may have it when they are finished."
    Michael clenched his teeth together and forced himself to be calm. "I don't want it when they are finished, I want my sword now."
    "Ask them. Perhaps they are already done." Dabiri continued to dig, nearly finished with his circle.
    Frustrated, Michael turned from the old man and went into the temple. He walked all the way into the sanctuary before he found another cleric.
    "You!" he yelled. "Where is everyone else, and where have they taken my sword?"
    "In the sanctuary." The cleric looked up at Michael calmly. "I was sent to tell you that they are finished."
    "Finished doing what? What did they do to my sword?!" It required an overt act of will for Michael not to pick up the cleric and shake him.
    "They have blessed it, of course. It is a weapon of the Goddess now. It will serve you well."
    "It served me fine before." Michael grumbled. He supposed that having his weapon blessed wasn't a terrible thing. The clerics could have done something bad to it, he realized. At least a blessing wasn't going to hurt. Perhaps the clerics knew what they were doing. "So where is it?"
    At that moment a door on the left side of the room opened and three clerics emerged, the last of which carried a pillow. Lying on the pillow and shedding a pale light was Michael's sword. The clerics merely watched curiously as he picked it up from the pillow. The hilt felt vaguely warm in his hand.
    "What kind of blessing is this?" He whispered wondrously.
    "Father Dabiri instructed us to imbue it with as much power as the Goddess would grant." One of the clerics said. Michael continued to stare at the sword. Dabiri had ordered that this sword be made powerful. Apparently, he had a backup plan. Maybe the old man wasn't so far gone as to believe only in his imagined skill. Still, Michael was one man only, and it didn't matter how powerful the sword was, the tens of thousands in the army out there were still going to kill him. He'd just take a few more down with him when they did. He walked slowly out of the sanctuary and into the yard of the temple, where Dabiri was standing calmly.
    "You ordered this?" Michael asked, curious now as to the man's intentions.
    Dabiri nodded. "I did. I see my trainees did a good job. It is a positive sign."
    "But why? If what you said earlier is true, then I will have no need for the sword. We can remain here for as long as we wish and be undisturbed. Those were your words."
    Dabiri sighed. "Yes, that is what I said. We will be under siege, and as much as I would want differently, we cannot survive a siege forever. We require food and drink. Our Goddess will provide, but it is only a question of how long. We will need to be set free, and it is you who will do it."
    "Me? Against that?!" He gestured toward the army which was now setting up a camp not far away. "There must be tens of thousands there! I could not defend Ethanac with a company of five hundred! How am I alone supposed to contend against that?"
    "It is the will of the Goddess. You will be victorious." Dabiri continued to look at the mass of the army.
    Michael could feel some of his annoyance return. Dabiri had too much faith that all would be well. Michael knew better. He was about to say something when he saw a small part emerging from the larger army ahead. Five men on horseback rode toward them. A feeling of dread took root in Michael's stomach. This was not going to be good.
    Dabiri moved to the edge of his circle and patiently awaited the horsemen's approach. He did not appear to be disturbed in the least. Michael, on the other hand, held on to his sword tightly, ready to use it should circumstances warrant it. He might not like Dabiri, but it would do no good for the priest's head to be bashed in by Thavirat's men.
    The horsemen slowed as they reached the line dug in the ground. They did not attempt to cross it. The one in the lead dismounted and looked at the two of them. "I come with a message for Father Dabiri." He said somberly.
    Dabiri drew himself up and looked defiantly at the leader. "I am Dabiri." He said, his voice stone. Michael was set aback momentarily by the change in the man. One moment he had been a hunched old priest who talked quietly and calmly, and now he was a fortress of will, unable to be moved or reached.
    The leader scowled at the cleric. "I speak for Thavirat."
    "Thavirat? Don't you mean that you speak for that daemon Stinnett? Your leader is a sheep, and is controlled by something so evil it defies realization. You do not even know who you speak for." Dabiri's voice took on a cutting tone, and the leader was visibly unnerved.
    "I speak for Thavirat!" The leader repeated nervously. "There is an item within this temple that we wish to procure. You can give it to us, or we can take it for ourselves." His confidence seemed to grow as he spoke. "Our army numbers twenty thousand. What say you?"
    Dabiri said nothing for a moment and the it seemed as though the courage of the leader was being slowly drained away. Finally, Dabiri spoke. "I say go from here. Take your twenty thousand and flee. Run from this place, lest I bring down the fury of the Goddess upon you. Go from here while you are still able to." There was a stunned silence after he spoke the last word. Michael felt the dread in his chest acutely, and he could sense a confrontation building. It never happened, however. The leader, shaking slightly, mounted his horse and led his men back.
    Michael stared at Dabiri with mute wonder. "What was that?" he asked.
    Dabiri sighed, and suddenly he seemed like just an old man again. "Merely the Goddess, supporting me in my efforts to turn them away. I affected him for certain, though whether this will affect his army is a different matter. Come inside, there is little we can do here."

...
    "Father Dabiri! Come quickly!" One of the clerics yelled. Michael bolted from his spot in a pew and ran to where he heard the voice. In an instant, he was outside. Dabiri was already there, and four of the clerics as well. At once Michael saw what the cleric had yelled about. Archers, numbering nearly a thousand alone, had stepped to within firing range of the temple.
    "It is their attack." Dabiri said. "So they will attack us." He seemed worn out already. "So be it, may our Goddess protect us."
    Following some unheard order, the archers fired their volley in unison. One thousand arrows climbed to the sky, arcing up and then down, bearing with terrible accuracy toward the temple.
    And then they were gone.
    One by one, the arrows came above the area where Dabiri had dug the trench. One by one, they winked out of existance. There was no light or sound to accompany their disappearance. They were simply gone. Dabiri smiled and looked at Michael. "Now do you believe? Our Goddess protects us."
    Michael was dumbfounded. The power was real. He didn't know whether this magic was coming from Dabiri or from his Goddess, but for now it didn't really matter. The magic was there, and they were safe.
    With a cry, the army broke into a charge, the archers giving way for the armored cavalry. The earth shook with the hooves of the attacker's mounts. Michael took an involuntary step back as they approached, drawing his sword and preparing to fight to the death. He noticed no such reaction from anyone else near him. The attackers came within yards of where he was standing, crossed the line that Dabiri had created, and then vanished without a trace. More than a hundred died in this manner before the attack was halted. The army now surrounded the temple, kept at bay by a simple line in the dirt. Dabiri drew himself up once more and closed his eyes. Michael felt cold all at once as he felt a wind spring from nowhere. The clouds that had been present before seemed to grow denser, covering the sky until little light at all penetrated through. Thunder was heard in the distance. Dabiri began chanting something under his breath in a language that Michael had never heard before, let alone understood. The other clerics seemed to realize what was happening, as they all moved back into the temple entranceway. The wind picked up again, bringing with it unseasonalby cold air. Michael turned to tell Dabiri something but stopped when he saw the cleric.
    Dabiri's eyes were white as fire. He held one hand out before him, and in it lay a small pearl of energy, its color shifting and shimmering. His chanting stopped and he spoke, his voice clear and audible above the storm.
    "Be gone from here, followers of evil." He commanded. Everyone in the army took an involuntary step backward. "You have violated the temple of the Goddess. You have angered her, and now you will pay the price for your blasphemy."
    The skies broke open as hailstones poured out, peppering the ground. None stuck Dabiri, but Michael was hit by some small stones before he could run to safety with the rest of the clerics. The hail struck the army harder as the wind collected strength and the stones grew in size. The army moved back slowly, then faster, fleeing from the wrath of the storm. One figure, dressed in a wizard's tunic, remains on the field.

    Stinnett hates it here the moment he arrives. His room in the tower is so much more comfortable than the outside world. But he has an army to manage, so he does so. He appears in the dead of the night, suprising some of the members of his army, but he doesn't really care. He is within reach of the temple, and he can feel its power from here. He can see the temple in the morning sunlight, and he smiles as he realizes that it shall be his in a matter of moments. He can feel something warding it, a protective power. So he sends five of his men to investigate. They return after a few moments. Their leader is too shaken to offer a true account. Dabiri has done it to him, of that Stinnett is sure. The first thing Stinnett orders is an attack by the bow. It involved little risk to his men. So it had been done. Stinnett had discovered the nature of the force that warded the temple. It had simply removed the threat. No mind. He had ordered a charge next- a charge he himself would accompany. Making arrows vanish was one thing, but destroying an entire human being and its mount was quite another. This had been a mistake, he realizes now. He had lost a hundred men in that attack.
    Now as Stinnett stands on the battlefield he can see Dabiri. He hears the words and sees the effect it has on his men. Scowling at their weakness, he threads his magic through them, strengthening their will. The temple will be his. Then the skies open up, and the very heavens assault them. Dabiri can protect himself, but not his entire army. They scatter as some of their number are injured by the hail, and some are killed. He stands there in the hail and begins walking toward Dabiri. The temple will be his. Dabiri can stop arrows, Dabiri can stop his men, but Dabiri is no match for Stinnett. After all, Dabiri is only human, and Stinnett is much, much more. He approaches the line drawn in the ground and extends one hand over it.
    There is a flash of white light and a burst of heat.

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