Petronax was even more annoyed and frustrated when he found that Thomas couldn't be moved until the next day, when Diana could finish healing him, and he strode up and down impatiently all the rest of the day, driving the others barmy with his grumbling and complaining. They made camp and the cleric lay down in her sleeping blankets, where she was soon sound asleep, and the others kept as quiet as possible to avoid waking her. Shaun and Matthew got out their klann board and played a few games, the younger brother playing with his good hand, while Jerry and Lirenna studied their spellbooks and Drake spent some time praying. Janice just sat and fretted, looking miserable, and after a while the demi shae put down her spellbook and went over to sit next to her. “We’ll find your sister,” she said softly, putting her hand on the girl’s arm. “I promise.”

     “We have to!” she cried desperately. “She’s always looked after me, ever since our parents died. There was a fire, you see. Dad got us out of the house, then went back in to get mum, but the roof collapsed and…” She choked back a sob. “Anyway, everyone thought we would have to sell the farm, but Karen insisted we could work it ourselves, and we did. We kept the farm going, we had enough money saved to hire men to get the crops in, and when we sold them we had enough money to get the house rebuilt.

     "We thought we’d put our troubles behind us and were going to be alright, but then… I heard her scream. She was out in the barn feeding the pigs and I ran out to see what was wrong. I saw them take her, the same men you just fought with. They rode off with her and there was nothing I could do! I tried to get people to help me, I went into town, but everyone was too scared to get involved. We had no family. No brothers, neither of us is married, so…” She laughed miserably. “So I set off alone to rescue her! And succeeded only in getting myself captured as well!”

     “You showed great courage,” said Drake, “and put all the people in your town to shame. It’s probably because of their fear that the cult of Molrot has managed to grow in this area. The only way to deal with that kind of evil is to hit it hard every time it shows itself, and that is what I intend to do.”

     Drake drew his knife and strode over to the prisoners, taking care to avoid touching bare skin as he rolled the first one over onto his back and tilted his head back, baring his throat. The horribly disfigured soldier struggled and pleaded, but the priest was implacable and his eyes were hard and pitiless as he raised the knife. A cry from behind stopped the killing blow, however, and he looked around to see Lirenna running towards him, a look of horror and disbelief on her face. "What are you doing?" she cried, grasping his brawny wrist tightly in her tiny, soft hands.

     "We can't let them go," the priest explained patiently. "You know that."

     "You can't just kill them!"

     "They're infectious. They could pass the curse on to any innocent people they meet."

     "But you can't just kill them! That's murder!"

     "It's an act of mercy. Look at them. Every moment of their lives is a torment." He tore off the man's helmet to reveal his diseased, terrified face. "What would you do? Take them with us?"

     "No of course not!"

     "Can they be healed? Every one of these wretches has committed himself to Molrot. Is there any healer anywhere in the world who can lift the curse from them?"

     “I don’t know! Maybe there is. Somewhere in the world, a powerful enough healer…”

     “There isn't. The cleric said there isn't and she was right.”

     “But we still can't just kill them!"

     "Then what would you do with them? If we can't cure them and we can't let them go..." He stopped at the look of anguish on her innocent face. He'd seen innocence lost, crushed by the cruel realities of the world, and he hated to be the one to take it from this young woman who'd done nothing to deserve such treatment, but there was simply no alternative. He spoke as gently as he could, therefore. "Ideally, I would agree with you," he said. "If we were within easy distance of a large town we could march them there and turn the problem over to them…” And they would just kill them, he thought but didn't say. But they'd do it out of your sight and you could fool yourself with whatever comforting lie you dreamed up for yourself.

     “But we're not,” he continued, “and circumstances force us to make a harsh choice. Let them go, and risk them infecting innocents, or ending their suffering here and now. It's the only way, and I think you know it."

     "He's right, Lenny," agreed Shaun, coming to stand beside her and taking her hand. "We have to stop this evil spreading further. We have to protect the innocent. We're saving people from having to make that terrible choice. Worship Molrot or die, slowly and horribly. You do see that, don't you?"

     Lirenna squeezed her eyes shut, squeezing out tears, and glanced over at Diana, still fast asleep, wondering what arguments the cleric would use to sway the men. There was nothing, though. No logic, no helpful facts she could draw upon. The men were right, and she knew it. She allowed the woodsman to lead her gently away, therefore, so the priest could perform his necessary duty, then went back to pray over their lifeless bodies and the other victims of the previous day's battle, doing the clerics duty for her so as not to disturb her sleep. She had to believe that these had been good men once, forced to make a terrible choice, and were victims of their own weakness rather than an evil nature.

    She said nothing more as they completed their preparations to leave, but there was a look in her eyes as she regarded the priest that told the others that she now saw something unknown and terrible in that uniform, something cold and pitiless. It wasn't his decision to kill the prisoners which, she was forced to admit, was correct. It was the implacably cold hearted way he went about it, and it drove home to her for the first time exactly what he was. A follower of the God of War. A trained killer. A merciless death machine. She shuddered and whispered a prayer for his soul.

☆☆☆

     The next day, Petronax woke the cleric up an hour before sunrise, demanding that she heal the two men as quickly as possible so they could get an early start, and he almost screamed when she calmly told him that she would first need to spend some time in prayer and meditation. He glared at her as she went through the morning cleansing rituals, preparing herself for another day in the service of Caroli, until Shaun took him by the arm and dragged him away, growling a few words of warning at him as he did so. The others got themselves some breakfast, and went down to a nearby stream, two at a time, for an early morning wash.

     Diana finally finished her prayers and went over to examine their two casualties. She was relieved to find that the young wizard had survived the night, and his and Matthew's injuries vanished within minutes as Caroli gladly responded to her prayers. The others then filled Thomas in on what had happened while he'd been unconscious, while at the same time they broke camp and made preparations to leave.

     Thomas was groggy and only semiconscious most of that morning, and it wasn't until around midday that he was really himself again. He had a splitting headache, but his curiosity was undiminished and while they stopped to rest the horses he demanded that the others finish their account of the previous day's events. "Priests of Molrot," he said fearfully. "I've heard of them. They're supposed to be nasty, the worst of the worst. Thankfully, they're also rather uncommon."

     "Not uncommon enough," said Diana. "And it's not just humans who worship the God of disease and decay. People of all races worship him, even the shae folk."

     Thomas studied her carefully. "How is it that you know so much about them?" he asked. "Naturally, as a follower of the Lady of Healing, you would know a bit about all the causes of disease, but you seem to have a personal knowledge of them. Am I right in thinking you've encountered them before? You don't have to answer if you'd rather not."

      "No, I don't mind talking about it. Yes, you're perfectly right. When I was still an acolyte, working in our town's temple, before My Lady accepted me as one of Her own, a man came to us suffering from the curse of Molrot and begging father Bryon to cure him. Father Bryon couldn't do so himself, however, since even he wasn't strong enough in his faith, so he set off for a town a hundred miles away to bring a more senior member of our order, a wise old woman called Mother Maria. He left me to look after him while he was away, and warned me not to touch him any more than necessary in case I caught the curse. He didn't get back soon enough, however, and he died seven days later. His death was horrible. All the sores and boils on his body grew and grew until they all joined together, and the flesh just melted away from his bones. He could have prolonged his life by worshipping Molrot, but he refused to, so at least his soul remained clean and unblemished, and we gave thanks for that.

     "When Father Bryon and Mother Maria arrived three days later and found they were too late, they set off to find the priest who had infected him, and when they returned three weeks later, having destroyed him, they told me everything they knew about that hideous cult, in case I ever came across them again." She ran a hand wearily through her hair and clutched her silver caroli flower tightly as though drawing strength from it. "The teachings of Tizar, Goddess of Wisdom, tell us that there is a place for all the Gods and their worshippers, that they are a necessary part of our world, but for the life of me I can't imagine what place there can possibly be for those foul creatures. Their followers are just victims, of course, and should be pitied rather than hated..."

     She glanced over at Drake to see if he was close enough to overhear her. She’d noticed that the prisoners had vanished when she’d woken up and, although nothing had been said, had guessed what had happened to them, and who had done it. "But as for the priests themselves, the world would be a far better place without them. If I could, I'd wipe them all out. Every last one."

     Hearing this from the normally peace loving cleric, Thomas realised how strongly she must feel about them, and how terrible they must be to arouse such strong feelings in her, so he asked no further questions and just squeezed her hand before leaving to study his spells.