Chapter 7 Part 3: A Lingering Curse

Xavos looked once more at the boisterous young men gazing out over the rising sun of a new day, and then followed his grimacing bodyguard into the dark bowels of the ship to keep the world aloft for another minute or two. The blackness within the vessel took time for his non patched eye to adapt to the lack of light. The sound of pounding boots on metal echoed off the tight walls in the steep passage as stair after stair led them past the gas bladders holding the ship aloft.

Eventually they emerged back onto the main decks where light was more plentiful, and the occasional window reminded the crew they were in the clouds. There Xavos caught a glimpse of Micath before he schooled his features as their eyes adjusted to the light. The look of momentary pain before the stoic face returned to his continence caught the Paladin’s experienced eye. One did not contend for countless years against the curse of undead without catching the signs of their machinations in action.

For a moment, the Arch Paladin could just smell a hint of must and decay in the air with the tart taste of old blood. The scent was further confirmation of the Paladin’s fears. The undead left their mark on the physical world, which they had no further right to inhabit upon. If his honor guard’s wound was beginning to smell things could be dire indeed.

Xavos cursed himself for forgetting the cursed blade which had stuck Micath with before they had all been ensnared by the Blessed Stasis Field. There had been far too much on the Arch Paladin’s mind to even hope to recall all that needed his attention. None-the-less the last of his Honor Guard had stayed by his side for every minute, and managed to hide his pain from his Paladin. The guilt would be just another haunted shade in the old warriors' nights.

“Micath,” Xavos said softly, but with a firm edge, ‘Has your wound not healed even this far into the ages?’”

The Arch Paladin’s bodyguard closed his eyes, and looked up to the Heavens where he shook his head, shame and frustration warring over his features. Xavos crossed his arms at the response. The shadow of the collapsing world was long and long-lived it would seem.

“So, the vampiress who threw her knife before falling to the sea survived even after all these centuries,” The Paladin murmured while leaning against the bulkhead in thought. Xavos remembered her well. Micath had sacrificed his body to save his Arch Paladin when Xavos was occupied with an undead ogre beating on the gates of the keep. The corrupted vixen with painful dark beauty despite the curse of undeath had managed to tear through two of his guards leaving only the young Micath, their most junior member, to defend the Paladin. In the heat of the struggle Micath had crippled her wings before the struggle of combat had dragged her, and half the undead swarming into the merciless waves below.

“She is close,” Micath growled and slammed the bulk head with his metal gauntleted hands. The mismatched armor of light leathers and plate armor allowed for the most movement while not completely forgoing the advantages of heavier armor. Armored gauntlets weren’t too much heavier than leathers, and as the bent and slightly leaking bulkhead showed, they allowed for far more punishment.

“Close you say.”

“I can sense her curse me even as my blessings battle her will. The wench is inside the stasis field. She comes for me, my Arch Paladin. Or boss. I endanger all of us as long as she can sense me,” Micath said with full shame over his features as he still refused to look at his Paladin and teacher. Xavos crossed his oversized arms as he regarded his last and youngest honor guard.

A confirmation of a second undead within the stasis. Not a surprising development in retrospect. Xavos had simply hoped the fiend had been shredded by the beasts of the deep three thousand years in the past, and her curse no longer a threat haunting their steps. They could not afford the loss of even one of these future warriors of the Heavens. Their manpower was too weak, and their needs too great.

“She comes for you, and yet we see no ships on the horizon, no sails or smoke on the sea. Do we perhaps go toward her instead, my young body guard? “ Xavos asked with a growing thought in his mind. Was this what the mysterious shadow led them towards? No, the Arch Paladin in disguised mused. Too simple for a fiend such as the power he had brushed up against. A happy accident? Or, as a commander must assume, not a coincidence in the slightest.

Micath’s eyes widened at the idea, and he soon closed them in prayer and concentration. Xavos shifted against the metal walls of the corridor listening to the gentle hum of engines as he waited for his honor guard’s prayers. Deep within the metal flying beast the clanging of the mages and the few dwarf engineers who had opted to travel with them on this uncertain clandestine crusade could be heard echoing off the corridors. The ancient warrior sighed. Then closed his eyes as well reaching outward with his senses and prayers.

The Paladin could be a patient, and understanding man when he felt the need. Xavos could wait on his body guard even as he could turn a blind eye to the Kierter sending obvious spies to ascertain the knowledge necessary to construct crafts like the Lina’s Flight in their own workshops deep in the belly of the Ark of Xarmon. Besides, Xavos planned on using the company of dwarves thoroughly in the coming weeks of travel, and unexpected futures.

Xavos had just followed the spirit of the airship to a leaking pipe in a chamber beneath their feet that would need to be patched when Micath stirred. The Paladin brought focus back to his acolyte turned bodyguard in a rush making a mental note to inform the engineers of the rusty pipe as soon as he had a moment to breath on this voyage of vengeance and desperate survival.

“Yes, we go to her, I sense… fear,” Micath gazed back into his Paladin’s knowing face with shock in the young man’s eyes.

“As well she should,” Xavos answered with a knowing smirk,” Given the whore of hell’s old enemy has come back to life.”

“One doesn’t think of vampires and undead fearing much,” Micath answered with a shiver as the wave of curses on his guts subsided, and with that the stench was taken into the churning fans bringing fresh air to the ship. The Paladin was having a far easier time sensing the magic and curses upon his bodyguard now that his focus was upon him. So much needed his focus. The Arch Paladin didn’t care to think of all what he was missing for all men, even immortal Paladins, had their blind spots.

“There boy,” Xavos said with a light slap to the young man’s face,” Don’t listen to their lies in the world. The power of the Almighty of Heaven’s Armies terrifies the cursed far more than any of the races of light fear them. If the Heavens weren’t so far they would have already faced his judgement, but then all liars are doomed to believe their own lies. They have most likely forgotten the inevitable end to their necromancy.”

“There is no true immortality outside of the savior.”

“Exactly Micath. We will just have to practice our vampire hunting skills without the aid of the inquisition. I feel we both may be rusty, but then, our enemies haven’t faced Paladins on crusades for thousands of years. I think we have the advantage.” Micath shook his head as Xavos laughed wholeheartedly as he led them both back into the ship.

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