Holy Hellfire

Hethir's group managed to reach the temple without drawing too much unwanted attention. Trace was doing his best, but he was still unmistakably gawking at the temple as they drew closer. For a few minutes Hethir had given Trace the mental equivalent of a shoulder-jostle to snap him out of it, but he soon gave up. Trace's jerky attempts to act casual drew nearly as much attention, and he looked like he was hiding something, so he just sighed and let the knight gawk.
As they neared the front entrance, Hethir's heart began to beat faster. The last time he had been here... had not been a pleasant experience. He suppressed a grimace; hopefully this time would go better. They crossed the massive threshold and entered the cavernous front room, and Trace checked out of even attempting to restrain himself. His eyes fairly bugged out of his head and his mouth hung slack as he looked up towards the vaulted ceilings. Hethir had to admit that he couldn't entirely blame him. He imagined that even after seeing it a hundred times it was still a stunning sight. Every surface of the walls and ceilings was covered with elaborate and intricate carvings and murals all interwoven with each other. In one place carvings were made to support and frame images from history; while other places had carvings spewing forth from them. No two were alike, it must have been the work of thousands of artisans working for years to create them all. Of course these were not the Temple's most impressive feature. Weaving through the carved pillars that supported the distant ceiling was a massive flying serpent. Its scales glowed with the brilliance of a forge-fire, and its eyes were brighter still. It wove through the room in complex and seemingly random patterns, but watching its sinuous length sliding through the air was hypnotic. Hethir knew that it was an illusion, but that did little to reduce the awe that the sight inspired.
It was a constant reminder for those who visited the temple that Lumis would not abandon his followers.



Hethir tore his eyes away from the gleaming spectacle and bit back a curse. While they had all been staring up at the illusory avatar, they had been surrounded. Four knights and at least three clerics were approaching their group from different directions; they could not move away without looking extremely suspicious. Eyes up, we have trouble... Trace you especially! The three mercenaries began looking around, but took a bit longer than Hethir to notice their predicament. Mentally gritting his teeth, Hethir turned slightly to meet the eyes of the cleric nearest him. The man was the very definition of dour; his face set in a permanent frown, and his eyes practically dripped suspicion.
"What brings you to the Temple of Lumis?" His voice was harsh, and louder than Hethir had expected.
"I came to seek counsel from the Archbishop," he answered truthfully, "Troubling things have come to my attention, and no one else is likely to understand it."
The cleric was clearly unimpressed. "The Archbishop has little time for giving counsel, who are you to so brazenly come for audience. I do not sense that you bear Lumis' mark on your spirit."
Of course I don't you imbecile... you people have tried to kill me so many times I've lost count!
Hethir managed to restrain himself from actually sending the thought to the man, "I will admit that I do not count myself a follower of Lumis, but the Archbishop's wisdom and insights are legendary."
The cleric was silent for but a moment, and his voice gained a bit of an edge. "No I should say you do not, in fact I think you would count yourself an enemy to our god... especially as you so brazenly bear the trappings of a fallen knight into our very sanctuary!"
Hethir did not bother to hide his confusion, "What are you talking about..." But the cleric was no longer looking at Hethir, he was glaring at Trace. Meeting his gaze calmly, Trace spoke with conviction ringing in his voice. "I am no fallen knight your holiness, nor have I defiled the body of a brother. I am Sir Trace, servant of Lumis to the border of death and beyond."
"I am Bishop Thule, and I am the master of the Knight Chapel, I have served for over three decades there and I do not know you! You are an imposter, and I only delay in executing Lumis' just vengeance on you and your companions so that I may learn which of my brothers you have slain so that I may send his soul in peace to Lumis!"
The Knights that had moved in around them assumed guarding stances. Two holding halberds flanked Bishop Thule, while the others fanned behind them with swords at the ready. The other clerics stood a few paces behind in casting stances; Hethir suppressed another curse. Mary and Garius stepped up to Hethir, keeping their backs to him and each other, but Trace just stood calmly; still looking the Bishop in the eye. "Your Holiness, none of our brothers were slain for the arms I bear, I have carried them myself since I received them from Lumis. You would not recognize me from Chapel, as I have been unfortunately detained for many years away from this holy place."
The Bishop's eyes flashed with anger, and he pulled a gleaming scepter from his sleeve. Brandishing it high above his head, he shouted at them, his voice echoing with magic. "Heretics feel Lumis' wrath!" Hethir's eyes shot wide and he threw a mental defense up around him, Val and the two mercenaries would be sheltered as well. The deluge of raw power, divine magics amplified by the temple itself, slammed into his defense like a tidal wave. He gritted his teeth and pushed back as hard as he could manage. He collapsed to his knees, but managed to hold the shield. His breathing was ragged, Val was shaking, and Garius looked as though he might throw up, but they had survived. Hethir glanced back where Trace had been standing and his jaw dropped. He had not moved, and was entirely untouched. A ring of gleaming gold traceries danced through the air around him, already slowly fading from view. He did not move, but his eyes burned with anger as he stared the Bishop down.
"You dare use Lumis' powers to strike down those who have done you no wrong! You dare attempt to defile this holy place with murder!"
The Bishop's dour face finally showed some variation of emotion, he looked absolutely stunned. "Impossible... no heretic could..."
Trace drew his sword slowly, deliberately, and pointed it straight at Thule. "I declare you unfit for service to Lumis, unfit to wield his power or bear his signs! You are unworthy!" His voice rang with power, and Hethir swore he could feel his teeth rattling.
The Bishop shouted back at Trace. His voice was filled with anger and indignation but seemed like little more than a squeak before the Knight's declaration. "How dare you speak to me in such a fashion! I am the Bishop of the Chapel, I command the knights! Even if you were a knight you would have no authority over me!"
"You are wrong, Thule." Trace replied calmly, "The knights exist to check your power, to prevent its misuse, and to ensure that Lumis clerics keep their proper standing." He lifted his blade until it pointed straight up, "Lumis protects me, empowers me, and Lumis gives me the authority to remove yours."
An impossibly loud roar suddenly echoed through the chamber. Everyone in the room scrambled to cover their ears, crying out in pain from the outburst. All except Trace. The great serpent that had woven is way through the pillars for as long as anyone could remember had stopped moving. Its light had intensified tenfold, the radiance that filled the room was painful to Hethir even with his eyes clamped shut. But he didn't need his eyes to see what had happened. Where before had been nothing but an illusion of light, there was a mind; an unimaginably vast and powerful mind, the mind of a god.
Trace stood, his sword raised, pointed straight at the dragon that had suddenly come to life. Trace stared, enraptured, as the great serpent slowly came down closer. One claw reached out and touched the tip of Trace's blade. There was a flash of utter brilliance, and everyone in the room collapsed on the floor.