Divine: Chapter 9

Ralos had the ability to mentally connect to all of his underlings. What was left of their former selves were gone. Long dead, leaving an empty husk for him to easily take control of and direct to cause as much havoc and destruction as possible. He knew everything they knew, and that was quite a bit. He used that knowledge to his advantage.

The Church had forces in the area which he had moved swiftly to disperse to great effect. They weren't expecting him or his horde. He had to give it to Edwin Kelm. If he hadn't so royally fucked up the portal, the Church would have been caught with their pants down when his army marched through. But there's no fun in that plan. Edwin wanted to keep much of the Church intact. It was a stabilizing force in the region, and if it was destroyed permanently, the land would fall into continuous strife for decades. He just wanted to end the war and create a new nation for those who don't want to live under the oppression of the church and weren't wealthy enough to set up in the Guild States. No fun.

This was much better. To send out his minions. Start a few fires. It was all he could think of. He knew that he would do this until he was eventually killed. Already, he was losing track of some of his minions to the southwest. The church was employing some new kind of magic.

He chuckled. Magic. The Church denounced it because of the corruption it created and yet the 'miracles' they used were magic, but designed to cause little chance of corruption. It made them weak to avoid it. All they could do was heal injuries, increase vitality and other meaningless gimmicks. They would have a taste of true power soon enough. He had this feeling that something big was looming just over the horizon. Something old and in the making since the very beginning. He would not live to witness it, but he knew that he would quicken its approach.

Another one lost. Ralos felt its final moments. It was being burned and cut into at the same time. The pain made his jerk convulsively. It hurt so much, but it fed his blood lust. Spurred him and his minions on. He also saw its final moments replay in his very head.

The minion, who had been a mere foot soldier in Edwin Kelm's army, but no longer, was running towards the smell of blood. It drew it in like fish to chummed waters. It couldn't see what it was going after, but it could hear them. They had just wiped out a moderately sized groups of its fellow corrupted. Set on them before they could react. The blood, even that of its comrades, drew it closer.

The forest was like a maze with no distinguishable features, but the smell of blood and the promise of carnage guided the poor twisted soul as if it were on a leash. It ran on all fours, claws leaving small divots in the grounds as it nearly hovered across the dirt and twigs. The stunted and malformed arms carried it as fast as it could and then nothing. It was dead before it knew what had even attacked it.

Ralos replayed the memory a few more times in his head, letting the death of his minion fuel him and give him strength. He would need it. Only a worthy foe could sneak up on their collective consciousness and pick them off so efficiently. He would deal with it himself.

Ralos raised his twisted maw to the air and gave off a chilling howl that was somewhere between a scream of agony and a cry of victory. Any animals that had been foolish enough to stay and try to wait out the evil that had invaded their homes quickly changed their minds. Birds that had sheltered themselves in small holes in trees took to the air. Small animals in their holes scurried out and fled. This was an evil that even nature feared.

Then he was off with a new purpose. This threat had to be eliminated before it caused too much damage to his minions.

Ralos felt nothing for the minions under him and they nothing for him, but it took a certain amount of bodies to pillage the countryside and they had barely started. It would be a shame too many were lost before the end of the first day.

Ralos used the memory of the last minion to die along with his heightened, Fel senses to pick up on where the minion was and where it was heading. He mentally called out to nearby minions as well to close in on him. He would need numbers to deal with this threat.

With no will to resist. The minions quickly obeyed their master's command and fell in step behind. In all, there were twelve of them with Ralos, the most normal and intact of them in appearance leading. His clothes were still mostly intact, fluttering behind him like streamers. Most of the rest were naked, their clothes either rubbed or just cast off, a nuisance that got in the way of the hunt. Ralos on the other hand, still a slave to the Fel, but conscious nonetheless. His mind was simply dominated by some outside force to the point that he believed that this was he wanted, that he had been destined to accept the Fel and to spread death and destruction. Nothing had ever felt so right.

Quickly the number of Fel creatures dropped to ten as two were hit by scolding hot energy. They fell apart as if they had been sea foam crashing against a rock. Thier bodies melted away and if Ralos hadn't been so perversely thrilled by such concentrated and efficient killing, he'd had been terrified.

Without needing to think, the pack split up into smaller groups of two or three and began to spread out while still heading in the direction of the attack.

Another beam of red silently sliced its way between the trees, barely missing Ralos himself. He felt the heat come off of this red string that speared itself at him only to leave a sizzling scorch mark on a nearby tree. It made his fur singe and he felt blisters form across his shoulder. More pain. More fuel.

A sudden surge of excitement filled Ralos. One of his minions had located this foe. He quickly fed into its mind, forcing himself into its eyes to see. There was little resistance.  A figment of the person who was trapped in his own body perhaps? Maybe? If Ralos thought about that possibility, then it was but for a moment as he saw the figure.

It stood tall in clothes that Ralos had not seen before. It was flanked by more familiar shapes of others in leathers and cloths. One was that holy man, false holy man and the coward that he had chased earlier. They had left behind two armed soldiers to cover their retreat. They had not lasted long. There was a new face of what appeared to be some kind of hunter. He had his bow drawn and ready. Then there was a paladin. A hulking brute that had dealt much suffering to the other minions. He would be troublesome when they got close, but for now, it was this strange figure that brought death.

A red flash ended the minion and Ralos had to shake his head when he was thrust back into his own body. The last thing he had seen in their other's eyes was the figure hold up some kind of long device and stare down its length. The device had sent out the red death. He needed to stop that before it killed them all.

The small groups split up even more. The nine remaining Fel went off individually and began to circle the point of interest. No more red death met them. They stayed well away and out of sight for the time being until it was determined that they were in position to attack.

It was odd. Fel were not ones to use strategy. Strategy took time. Time that could be used for killing, but there was a reason why Ralos wasn't a mindless slave to his urges. Sometimes some thinking and planning was required, even if planning was just surrounding and then attacking.

They each sat low in the brush. The air stilled, and the smell of blood settled.

With a thought, Ralos commanded his minions to attack. They all sprang up and charged forward.

The element of surprise was not on their side. Instantly, one of the minions was met with the red death. Instead of being met with a swift end, its shoulder was burnt off, the limb falling off in a cauterized lump. It screamed out in pain and despite the horrendous injuries, it kept moving forward. Its pain fueled the rest even more. They embraced the possibility of death.

More of the mysterious red death. Some found their marks, some did not. They were getting closer and closer and eventually Ralos could see the figure. He was not tall, but lean in clothing that was most definitely not native to the land. It held tight to his skin. Skin and not fur. It was not anything that...

A sudden fear filled Ralos. It was unwelcome, but overwhelming.

His steps faltered and he fell. He wanted to get up, but the fear crippled him. He did not understand.

One by one, his minions, too stupid to be affected, fell. The paladin made short work of the few that did make it within a stone's throw. Within moments, the was only Ralos.
--

"Hold on." Marty stopped the paladin from finishing off the last one. He patted the big fellow in the shoulder hesitantly. He was still just trying to wrap his head around that he was the only human among them.

He had seen this one, bigger and less grotesquely mutated than the others, fall and writhes on the ground for apparently no reason. It had appeared just as bloodthirsty as the others and then this.

The thing, this Fel corrupted creature as the rest of them called it, snarled and yowled at Marty's approach. The paladin raised his comically large weapon, but did not do anything else. He would kill it without a second thought if it moved the strike, but it didn't. It was more like a cat that was cornered and scared, looking for an escape than to attack, but a cornered animal was just as, if not, more dangerous than one prone to strike.

It glared up at Marty; it clawed at the ground, it's muscles straining as it tried to crawl away from the human.

Marty felt a tinge of pity for it. This used to be a normal being, but something, some force that existed on this planet had twisted it. It was horrifying to look at up close. Was it some kind of disease. Should he even be close to it? He felt that if it was a sickness, then it was already too late to worry about exposure.

"Do they know who they are? What they are?" He asked for anyone behind him. It was the bear, Cleric Hansen, that answered.

"It is unknown if all of them retain who they are, if they are aware that they are twisted by the Fel. It turns good, honest people into murderers. But," He added. "often when a group as large as this one is corrupted, there is one that is intelligent and capable who will lead them." He shifted uncomfortably around the creature as it stared them down, no longer having the strength to crawl away anymore. "I think this one may be that one."

Marty nodded. "Do they usually act like this." He pointed his weapon at the Fel and it recoiled away from his as if he were the devil.

"No."

Then suddenly the creature spasmed, more so than before. Its back arched at such an angle that Marty was sure that he heard its spine popping. Its fingers curled the wrong way and it let out an ear piercing screech.

The paladin pushed Marty back with one arm, silently muttering an apology under his breath. "Let me rid this world of this corruption." Marty wanted to stop him from killing it, but he was just too disturbed to disagree with him.

"You!" The Fel screached out; its voice cracked and blood spitting out with each word. "You were told never to return!" It pointed directly at Marty. "The deal that was writ in blood was not to be broken!"

"What?" Marty said. He had no clue what it was talking about.

"This world is mine and for this transgression, this world belongs to Aetin." It cackled. The strain on the creatures body was actually tearing it apart. Bones began to protrude from its body and not the spiny plates that had formed across it, actual bones that were meant to stay inside the body snapped out of its skin. It wasn't going to last much longer.

"Who. Aetin?"

It grinned. "Tell your masters that they will never atone."

It then sputtered a long gasp and twisted its body irreparably and died right then and there.

Marty couldn't look at it any longer. He had seen dead bodies before. He had once been hired to find a lost cargo ship that had dissapeared during a routine voyage carrying food from the outer agrarian colonies to the inner core worlds. The trade lanes were well known and updated frequently. There was no reason for a ship to vanish.

It wasn't hard to find the missing ship. Shortly after being hired, information came in that there had been a violent solar flare from a nearby sun. The mission didn't change. The company still wanted to know what had happened to their ship and their crew.

Marty did find the ship and crew. This shi[ itself was structurally intact, but had no power. The crew was all dead. Marty spent hours looking for survivors, but there were none. Those deep inside the ship, sheltered from the radiation, soon ran out of air. All forty crew were found in the end. Marty helped recover the bodies.

Those bodies had been intact, but the radiation had done things to them. They did not look healthy, discolored and bloated. That had left him too sick for flight duties for nearly a month. This was just as disturbing.

"Who is Aetin?"

Vicar Morrel, who had stayed back, for the most part, stepped forward. "Aetin is an old, evil name. He was the one who taught us of violence, conflict, and war. He was the one who led us down the path that drove the gods to deem us unfit to be before them. He is the one true evil, Demon of Corruption and father of the Fel."

"Well, that doesn't bode well." Marty did his best not to look at the corpse. "He seemed to recognize me."

"You are a God."

"No." Marty raised a finger. "Not a god."

"Perhaps." Vicar Morrel took the denial in stride. "But you are in their image. That cannot be denied." He folded his arms across his chest, his hands disappearing in those massive sleeves of his. The things that he could he hide in there. "Long ago, Aetin tricked us into believing he was a god and those that denied his will were the true heretics. War was waged, many died. Sadly, it is not too different from what it is now. When the gods left, he remained and is the reason for the Fel, or so we believe. Not much is known about him."

"Jeeze. What have I gotten myself into." Marty muttered under his breath.

"That is enough talk." The paladin spoke. "This is not time for history. I will escort all of you back to Melur. High Pontiff Barthelm will want to know what is going on."

"Agreed." Vicar Morrel nodded and then looked at Marty. "He will be most impatient to meet you."

"What about me." The last one that had come with the bear spoke. "I have nothing to do with all of this."

"You will come with us of course." Cleric Hansen smiled. "You will not leave my sight."

The cat sighed, accepting his fate.

"I need to go back home." Vargus spoke up. "My son."

The paladin wanted to protest until Marty, starting to realize that he had the most say in anything at the moment, ordered that they go back.

The small canine was more than thrilled to see his father and Marty again and then more so when he heard that they were heading to Melur with a paladin. It was sweet to see him so innocent, unaware of what had actually just happened. This was like some magical adventure for the pup. There was his father, the being that fell from the sky, a paladin, a cleric, some other person that was with the cleric and then a Vicar. It was amazing to him and the pup's uppity mood helped Marty relax as they made it back to the city while the rest of the Fel were mopped up.

The city was larger than what Marty could ever have imagined. The walls seemed to go up and up as he crossed under the gate. The tunnel through the wall seemed more like a tunnel through a mountain than anything else and once inside, he was even more amazed.

The architecture was surprisingly Roman or Greek in appearance. Marty wasn't sure, he had only seen their architecture in holo vids from high school, but it still brought those images to mind.

He marveled at their great city while the people marveled at him. At first, he didn't notice the staring, but it easily became more apparent as everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the mysterious stranger pass by them. Some pointed, some made the connections to the images in the church.

Marty did his best to ignore them until he was brought to what he was told was the cental church of the city. There were dozens of churches scattered across the stone metropolis, but this one was where High Pontiff Barthelm resided.

"I need to find a place for me and Petrus to set up." Vargus told Marty. "I hope your meeting with the Pontiff goes well. I will see you again?"

"Yeah." Marty nodded and looked back up at the church. The architecture was astounding. There were statues of very human looking figures on the front, above the door. They were dressed in robes in various poses, none of which stood out from the others."

"The center one is Kasses." Cleric Hansen said, pointing at the center statue of what appeared to be an older man holding onto a tablet and gazing out into the city. "He was the leader of the Gods and is credited with created this world and everything on it." The bear looked up with Marty. "I too wish you well. Do not be afraid. Pontiff Barthelm is a kind one. I would be more afraid of  Veneer. Farewell. Come along Felix. We have much to do."

"Veneer? Who?" But it was too late. The bear and the cat were gone, swallowed by the city.

"I will lead you to High Pontiff Barthelm's office." Vicar Morrel spoke, startling the man. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah... Uh. yeah."

The inside was just as impressive as the outside. The main chamber was massive, a galactic class hub hauler could fit inside and there would still be room to spare. Then there were the stained glass windows, the ones that he had heard about from Vargus. He wasn't wrong when he said that the images depicted exactly what happened to him. There was an image of a fiery ball falling from the sky with a person, undoubtedly human, riding it in a suit that was not unlike his own flight suit.

He was starting to get the idea that he was not the first human to step foot on this planet. Maybe he was the first in a very long time, but humans had visited this planet in the past and appeared to have played God. It was fascinating to think about, even if the morals were more than a bit shady.

"Right this way." Morrel led Marty up a set of stars. The paladin that had accompanied them stayed behind at the bottom.

Marty walked up and up the spiraling stairs and began to wish that the humans before him had left them with elevators. The Pontiff's office must have been at the top of the tallest tower.

"Here we are." The perfectly unwinded Vicar stopped at the door. "He's right inside. I'll be just outside."

Marty took a deep breath. He was about to make contact with their leader. He hardly felt dignified. His flight suit was torn and damaged. His hair was unkempt and he was starting to have the makings of a neck beard going on.

"Don't worry." Vicar Morrel said after watching Marty rub his neck. "I may not understand why you cut away all of your furs, but I do know the importance of a well-kept fur. High Pontiff Barthelm will not mind. Also, do call him Sindri. He's not a fan of titles. Plus, do not mind Veneer. She can't hurt you here."

All Marty could do was nod and smile and then enter through the door.

The room was well lit with natural sunlight. There was a small desk with massive tiger in armor, unmistakably a tiger stood. At the desk was a mongoose, a very old mongoose, even Marty could tell that.

"Hello there." The mongoose said. "Word has reached me of your arrival and I am most eager to speak. Do please close the door and sit down. We have much to talk about."

"Yes. Yes, we do." Marty closed the door.

Whether he wanted to interfere or not with the affairs of this world, he was a part of it now.

-End of part 1-