Shadowstorm by Kemp Paul S Read Free Book Online Page A

heresy.”
    Regg cursed softly.
    The Abbot answered with a shout. “A heresy!? You dare say so in these halls?”
    “Calmer words, men,” Regg said, but the Abbot ignored him.
    “You are blind, Abelar Corrinthal! And when the Deliverance comes, you will be left behind!”
    Abelar scoffed and pointed an accusatory finger at his former mentor. “Darkness is coming, not Deliverance, and when it does, you will realize your folly.”
    The doors to the chapel flew open and a half-dozen priests and men-at-arms burst inside, maces bare.
    Regg moved Abelar away from the Abbot.
    “Alls well here,” Regg said to the men.
    The Abbot snarled at Abelar. “I should arrest you and take you to Ordulin for trial.”
    “Shall I, Abbot?” asked one of the men-at-arms, a young, overeager convert who could barely grow a beard.
    Regg let Abelar go, put a hand to his hilt, and stared at the young man. “Try it, boy, and you’ll not have to wait for your deliverance.”
    Abelar heard the hardness of Regg’s words and they brought him back to himself. He would not have bloodshed within the faith, not within the walls of one of its temples. With effort, he regained his composure, chided himself for losing his temper, and looked to his onetime friend and teacher.
    “You will not arrest me, Abbot,” he said gently. “We have not fallen so far as that.”
    The Abbot stared at him, his face still flush, his heavy breathing audible. Finally, he said, “Go, Abelar. Never return here. I will have you arrested if I see you again.”
    The words stung Abelar but he nodded. He turned, gathered Regg to his side, and walked through the crowd of Lathanderians, once his brethren. They glared at him and he did not have the strength to offer his own in return. His legs felt weak under him.
    As he walked through the door of the chapel, the Abbot called after him, “I receive the power to cast spells in the Morninglord’s name every morning, Abelar. Think on that. If what I believed was a lie, why would I still receive such a boon?”
    Abelar did not turn or slow. He had no answer. He, too, could channel divine power in the Morninglord’s name. As could Regg. He did not understand why his god would allow both sides of the schism to claim his blessing. Abelar presumed that Lathander had a purpose in prolonging the dispute, but he could not see it.
    They exited the chapel and entered the courtyard. Regg shouted for their horses. The crowd of priests and warriors followed them out of the chapel. The eyes of those in the courtyard regarded them with hostility. Some fell in with the priests and warriors.
    “He is lost in the depths of his doctrine,” Abelar said to Regg, shaking his head.
    “Aye,” Regg said, and nodded. He turned a circle and shouted to all of those looking on them, “And so are you all lost! To the man!
    Some among the onlookers murmured angrily. “Away from here,” shouted one. “Begone,” yelled another. “Gladly,” Regg answered.
    Beld brought forth their horses and Abelar and Regg swung into their saddles.
    “I did not have time to even remove their saddles,” Beld said, indicating the horses. “And they are temperamental beasts.”
    “It is the company here,” Regg said, and patted Firstlight.
    Abelar looked to field and smiled. “Thank you, Beld. You are a good man.”
    Beld looked stricken. “I am sorry it has come to this, Abelar.”
    Abelar nodded. “As am I. Be well.”
    With that, they rode out. Abelar knew it would be the last time. A black mood descended on him. Lathander would not be pleased that he allowed a darkness to root in him but he could not
    stop it. He had lost the father of his blood to the Hole of Yhaunn and now had lost the father of his soul to a heresy.
    “The sun rises and sets,” he murmured to himself.
    As they rode outside of crossbow range, Regg clapped Abelar on the shoulder and chuckled. “And you told me not to speak with heat.”
    Abelar could not bring himself to smile. “I was