The priests: Illustra and Ordreth

They find an inn quite easily, but Tyrael wasn't sure the choice was a good one. The name of the inn itself - The Sleeping Dead - wasn't very reassuring and the innkeeper looked more like an assassin than an innkeeper. They took a single bedroom - Tyrael having assured Delilah he didn't really need to sleep - and Delilah climbed the two stairs under the interested eye of the innkeeper.
"Why such a bad inn?" asked Tyrael as soon as she closed carefully the door, taking more time than needed.
"Because I'm not rich, Tyrael, and I want Cinnabar and the gelding to have some food. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
She lay down on the bed in her travel clothes, drew the blanket on her and fell asleep right away. Tyrael sat down on the unique chair and looked thoughtfully at the girl sleeping peacefully. He wondered how she could lie here, so trustingly, when it was so obvious that the innkeeper would more than likely rob them, if not kill them. As to confirm his thoughts, he heard a light step coming up the stairs. Silently his hand came lightly on his sword. The person outside put his hand on the handle... and took it away very quickly, choking back a cry of pain. Tyrael slowly stoop up and seized the handle. Nothing happened. The steps went away and Tyrael went back to his chair. There would be no more incidents this night, he was sure of it. He looked again at Delilah, wondering what she had done to drive away the robber. There couldn't be any other explanation: that was the very reason why she was sleeping so soundly!
He closed his eyes, relaxing, and probably dozed off, for when he opened the eyes again, the door was ajar and Delilah was standing near the window, looking through the dirty pane, obviously very interested by a cart in the street.
"You should have told me you were tired," she said without looking back. "I'm not poor to the point of not being able to pay a room for you."
"I wanted to be sure you were safe."
"I am always safe."
"They tried to break in during the night!"
"You said the magic word: they tried. But they didn't succeed and I'm pretty sure they are very sorry by now."
"If I'm to judge by the cry of pain, they were already sorry last night."
"I'm sure of it," grinned Delilah. "They may even be so sorry that we could get a free breakfast," she added thoughtfully.
"Did it happen to you before?"
"What? Free breakfast?"
"Not only. Being attacked at night."
She threw her saddlebag on her shoulder and sighed.
"I usually go in poor inns, Tyrael, and most of them are rough places. As I protect myself, they usually end up apologising. Are you ready?"
They went down the stairs. The innkeeper was here, looking quite nervous, and the palm of his right hand was badly burnt.
"My lady," he called hesitantly, "I'm afraid you made a slight mistake yesterday evening: you paid too much."
"Oh, I did? That's very honourable from you, innkeeper, to tell me so!"
She accepted the money he gave her back - which covered the price she had paid the previous night - and then seemed only to notice the burns on his palm.
"What a bad burn! Let me do something about it..."
She took a small jar of balm from her saddlebag and, without caring for the innkeeper's protests, she began to spread the balm on the burns. Relief was probably instantaneous, for the innkeeper's face showed wonder.
"My friend Reager told me one should treat burns immediately," she said casually without looking up.
"Ah, my lady, you should have told me you were a friend of Reager! I'm always glad to welcome them!"
"I usually prefer to do without the recommendation of his name. There, the burns should be all gone by tomorrow morning. Have a good day, innkeeper!"
"Have a good day, my lady, and thank you."
Delilah waved the hand as to say it was nothing and went straight to the stables. Cinnabar buried his nose against her stomach with soft noises of contentment. She patted him, listening attentively, and then laughed.
"What is it?" asked Tyrael.
"It seems he didn't get only burns, but kicks too! He apparently tried to steal Cin, but my stallion knows better, huh, Cin? So he tried to steal the gelding... but Cin didn't let him do either!"
"So that's why you keep this vicious beast?"
"He's not vicious. I am the mean person, Cin just tries to please me and he knows I would be very upset if the gelding disappeared. Furthermore he likes the gelding. Anyway Reager could have guessed we needed an inn and could have warned the innkeepers around. Let's go, Illustra's priests are waiting for us."
"I doubt this," muttered Tyrael, leading the gelding outside the stables.
"You would be surprised," she replied on the same tone.
He observed her as she was leading Cinnabar in the streets of Rishaki. Her right shoulder was still stiff for it was where she had been the most hurt, but other than that she seemed fine. She looked almost regal on her huge warhorse and in the streets people looked at her either with admiration or with indifference, probably used to see her.

Strangely, when they arrived at Illustra's temple, a priest was waiting on the stair. Actually it was a priestess. Delilah dismounted and came fearlessly to her.
"It is a great honour to see you, Eilena," she said respectfully.
The priestess lightly touched her cheek.
"We welcome you, Delilah, Demon's child. You went to Furtifer's temple, didn't they tell you not to come here?"
"They did, Eilena, but I need the test to re-establish my confidence."
"You are not alone. I feel a foreign touch on you, a soothing... healing... touch. You were deeply hurt, child. Your companion is still with you, I can hear him breathe..."
Tyrael looked surprise. Eilena smiled gently.
"A supernatural creature... Delilah, an Angel walks with you?"
"An Archangel, actually. Eilena, let me introduce you Tyrael. Tyrael, here is Eilena, high priestess of Illustra."
"Delilah, if we could enter... I would rather avoid appearing suddenly in front of everybody..." whispered Tyrael.
She laughed softly.
"Eilena is blind, winged boy. You don't need to be visible to everybody."
Eilena motioned them inside the temple, her hand on Delilah's shoulder.
"I can still feel pain, Delilah... I thought angelic healing was perfect?"
"It depends of the depths of the wounds," said Tyrael.
Eilena sadly shook the head.
"Woe on Furtifer's priests! They crossed the allowed limits!"
"I wanted to report to the gods, but she forbade it to me."
"She was right, gentle Archangel; the priests did what they thought to be right and the gods know this. Nothing can be done, but bear with the pain."
"Oh she does!" muttered Tyrael.
"Tyrael!" snapped Delilah with a harsh tone.
"We will try to ease the pain, Delilah. There is no point in suffering gratuitously," said Eilena with a definitive tone.
Tyrael looked satisfied and Delilah had a disgusted air.
She tried to protest but Eilena refused to listen to anything and Tyrael wasn't helping at all, so she had to surrender and she did so with the worse grace ever. She thus took her shirt off and Eilena applied a balm - feeling cold and smelling bad - on Delilah's sore back. During this time, carefully turning his back to them, Tyrael was leafing through an old book on a lectern. His eyes widened with surprise as he was looking at the pages.
"I wonder if Illustra knows she said all this," he mused aloud.
Eilena actually blushed and Delilah, putting her shirt on, said hastily:
"Don't mind him, Eilena. Our winged boy has some weird ideas, the priests doing what the people want, the gods knowing everything, no more tests and so on. I guess he's quite a young Archangel for, if not, he would know it's very impertinent to voice such ideas."
"Delilah!" protested Tyrael.
"What? Dare to tell me I'm wrong!"
"No, you're not, but those are not things to say like that!"
Delilah shrugged.
"As if people cared for what I say. Alright, Tyrael, I really need this test."
"You said the priests were not available," continued Tyrael, following her. "Eilena was."
Curiously the high priestess had disappeared and the Archangel couldn't remember when she had left.
"Eilena was like a second mother to me, after Lilith's death. I think you can thank her for making me a proper Guardian instead of someone bitter and angry with the Angels," she added cynically.
"Delilah..." he called softly.
But she walked in a dark room and the door closed before Tyrael could enter. Bitterly he thought that being an Angel wasn't such an advantage; humans had the tendency to shun him and, mostly, to keep him out of their business.
Once again Delilah was in the darkness; she knew this room like the palm of her hand. She had spent so much time here after her mother's death, where Eilena had tried to calm her anger and taught her to quell her fears. She fearlessly came to the centre of the room and knelt. She used her favourite position, relaxed but attentive, seated on her heels, fingers entwined on her lap, eyes closed.
She didn't have to wait long before the test began. It seemed to her that two hands had seized her head as to crush it and terrible images invaded her mind. She heard her mother shout as she probably did when realising she was trapped and doomed to die, she saw her slowly fading in her tomb, but when she finally saw her face, she faced her own face. She clenched her teeth. No, this vision wouldn't frighten her; she had seen it over and over in ten years and she had promised herself she could live with this fate, that her death was of no matter.
As if understanding her determination the images faded away in her mind, only to be replaced by others. She was in the demon prince's lair, she was His captive and He was mocking her, mocking her Guardian education and His laugh was hurting her, sounding the death knell for her. She didn't care; she could live with the demon prince's mockery, even if the idea of failing almost made her sick. But she could accept her death from the Demons' hands too. But this time the images didn't fade away. The vision insisted and could see there wasn't only mockery in the demon prince's eyes; there were love and desire in His eyes and when He held out His hand to touch her cheek, the captive turned the head to avoid the contact. Kneeling on the floor of the temple, Delilah turned the head away too.
The demon prince's attentions were a torture for her; just the idea that, like Tyrael had said, a Demon could yearn for her made her yearn for death. She concentrated fiercely and slowly overcame her fear: if it happened she would rather die than accept a Demon's dark love. But the vision wasn't convinced and the captive experienced the soft and gentle caress of the demon prince. No reaction; she wouldn't react! Only indifference could express her feeling - spite would have given too much importance to the Demon's actions.
Regretfully the vision changed and Delilah breathed deeply. One more fear quelled and her resolution was stronger than ever. But then... she was still captive in the Demon's lair but He wasn't looking at her anymore. For there was another captive and she paled when recognising him. Tyrael. There was blood even on his wings and it twisted her heart to see her Angel in that pitiful state. She wanted to run to him and set him free, but she was a captive too and could only witness what was going to happen, powerless. She grinded her teeth; no, she couldn't allow herself any pity!
The demon prince came near Tyrael and He had a black sword in hand, exact opposite of Tyrael's shining blade. The Demon put His blade on the Archangel's throat and it was obvious that just the proximity of the Demon was making Tyrael suffer. The demon prince uttered an ultimatum and she protested, while the blade was being pushed against Tyrael's throat. He reiterated His ultimatum and, tears running freely on her cheeks, something breaking inside her, the captive agreed, giving her word. The Demon smiled and pushed the blade more firmly. The captive screamed, collapsing in her bounds, and Delilah heard the scream sounding louder and louder to her ears. Her eyes snapped open as the vision faded and she realised she was screaming.
Light came back in the room, the soft light of a candle held by Eilena.
"Your scream, Delilah... What is the fear you cannot face?"
"Tyr... Tyrael's death... because of me... Thus dooming the world. I... I can't bear it."
She wrapped her arms around her, head bent down, almost touching the floor. Eilena put her hand on her head.
"Come with me, Delilah. Now you know your fear, now you know where you will fail... if you fail."
"Thank you for believing in me, Eilena," murmured Delilah.
The high priestess had a gentle smile.
"I believe so much in you, Delilah, that I promise you that all your banishment incantations will be twice as powerful as they should be. And do not forget the weapon the priests of Furtifer made you pay so dearly for."
"I don't forget it, Eilena, it is written in the flesh of my shoulders," replied Delilah darkly.
Eilena sighed sadly and opened the door of the room where Tyrael was. He came immediately to Delilah, taking her hands in his, and concern was filling his blue eyes. The contact, so natural in appearance, sent a bolt of electricity in both of them.
"Was that horrible scream coming from you? What did they do to you?"
"They showed me a fear I cannot face..." replied Delilah, looking haggard.
Instinctively Tyrael drew her to him, enfolding her in his arms. For a brief instant, she closed the eyes, feeling safe in the arms of her Angel, but then her vision came haunting her mind and she jerked away, almost horrified. The terror in her eyes hurt deeply Tyrael, briefly wondering if she was considering him as a monster because he couldn't have avoided her mother's death.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to hide how much he was hurt - and only half-succeeding.
She looked at him, surprised.
"Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. I'm the only to blame. Come, let's go to Ordreth's temple. Eilena, I must leave you. Take care of yourself."
"Remember, my dear child... What is one death compared to the world? We are only one in the multitude but sometimes we can make a difference," murmured Eilena affectionately. "Be careful in that den of iniquity that Ordreth's priests and followers dare to call a temple!"
Despite herself Delilah smiled at the high priestess's vehemence. They left, leaving the blind Eilena standing on top of the temple's stair, looking at the city with her dead eyes.
"Remember that I love you, always," she whispered to the wind. "It doesn't matter who you are, I love you. But don't let anybody use it as a weapon against you," she added more softly.

Ordreth's temple was totally outside Rishaki, at the limit of the Rippling Plains, under the shade of the Whispering Forest. Nobody liked to go in the Whispering Forest, but everybody had to go for it was almost impossible, for example, to go to Sisanfri, the nearest town - as the crow flies - to Rishaki without passing by the forest: the Mounts Moen, between the Rippling Plains and Sisanfri, were almost impossible to cross. The other way was the south, but the trip was far longer and the roads were rather empty compared to the north path.
Delilah was thus heading north, her eyes haunted by whichever vision she had had in Illustra's temple - and which she refused to tell Tyrael. The Archangel was feeling very bad; he was useless and, even worse, he was a burden. Brooding and brooding he finally came to a decision as the North Gate was closing just behind them. He waited a moment, the time for Delilah to put some distance between them and the cart following them, and then came by her side.
"Delilah, listen, I'm just a bore to you so I thought that I would better leave you on your own. If you need me, just call my name and I'll be there for you."
She looked at him in utter disbelief.
"What are you saying? When did I say you were a bore? I agree that I was quite infuriated at the beginning and I do apologise for my behaviour, but I swear to you, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I'm sorry, Tyrael."
"It's not your fault... I mean, you have a way to work, alone, always by yourself, more used to count on your horse than on other human beings - or me - and I have some difficulties accepting it, to fit in all that, but I'm the only one to blame, since I left you on your own during ten years. And then you humans shun me and I feel so out of place..."
Delilah couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She pushed Cinnabar against the gelding and put her hand on Tyrael's arm.
"We 'shun' you because we've met mostly Angels like Shela, claiming that your kind doesn't care for us. You are an exception and we don't know how to deal with such a case."
"Which other Angels do you know?" asked Tyrael, genuinely surprised.
"Well, I was quite lucky because the first Angel I met - except glimpses of you - was Raphael. He is... well, he is what we imagine Angels to be. Really kind; he didn't care a bit for my bad reputation. But well, after that, I met an Angel called Jyiel; Eilena was there and my, this Angel is a real plague, with all due respect."
Tyrael only managed to transform his laugh into a broad smile.
"Imagine, Jyiel is a very good friend of Shela..." he said.
"Oh, I understand now! And there was another Angel called Vileyam. Not nice either."
"I see who you are talking of..."
"How is it you are so caring? I know you are young and young Angels - like Jyiel and Shela - tend to despise us; even older Angels like Vileyam do! Why don't you? Why are you wise like Raphael?"
"I'm young, I agree, but I'm an Archangel, not a 'mere' Angel," he explained, unable to restrain a smile when thinking of Shela's face as Delilah had said this. "We are supposed to be a bit superior. Hopefully it doesn't make us more arrogant."
"Hopefully," grinned Delilah. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I have some bad habits. I won't tell you everything when you want me to tell you, but I promise you that you'll know everything there is to know by the end, alright?"
"Deal."
"And to show you I'm not lying, I'm going to tell you what is the fear I couldn't face," she added, looking down at her hands on Cinnabar's reins.
"If you don't want, then just don't."
"You have the right to know. The situation is the following: they show you a scene and you feel exactly like the 'you' in the scene; you can't even remember you're kneeling on the cold floor of the temple. In the vision they showed me, we were both prisoner of the demon prince and He was bargaining your life against something, I don't know what; for saving you I agreed - thus condemning my kind - but He killed you even so. That's when I screamed. I cannot overcome the fear of seeing you die because of me."
"I'm an Archangel, Delilah. I cannot die."
"Don't lie to me, Tyrael! You Angels are not supposed to lie."
"Everybody lies," shrugged Tyrael. "Even the gods, that's why we have a goddess of lies and deceit. We just try to do it less often than you humans. Why do you think I'm lying?"
"You are not immortal; you are eternal, except if killed and I'm sure that a demon blade can do that to you."
"So you know more about Angels than you originally told me."
She smiled.
"People fear less those who don't know anything."
"What you don't know can't hurt you?" quoted Tyrael.
"Until it comes for you," added Delilah gloomily. "Come, we have to go through the Rippling Plains. The gelding wants to run!"
"And Cinnabar?"
"Cin always wants to run!"
"How is Ordreth's test? And what is it?" asked Tyrael, his gelding somehow managing to stay next to Cinnabar.
"It's called Essence of the Graves."
"Bu it's... it's a mortal poison!"
"I know and Ordreth is the only one to be immunised to it and to have the antidote. I usually pass the test, don't worry."
"What is it about?"
"You have several beakers containing various poisons, including the essence of the graves and the chimaera venom. One only is not poisonous. The point is to identify the beaker containing the essence of the graves. To be sure you chose the right one, you have to drink it... and you have one minute to find the non-poisonous beaker, which contains the antidote."
"And if you fail?"
"Then you die," shrugged Delilah. "I choose to leave the temple if I cannot identify the beakers. It's safer this way."
"Crazy priests," mumbled Tyrael.
"I agree with you. Compared to Furtifer's and Ordreth's tests, Zeloran's is a pleasure."
They left the trail to head toward northwest, straight to Ordreth's temple, and the others on the trail looked at them with spite. It was never good to claim to go to Ordreth's temple.

Half-buried among the dark trees of the Whispering Forest was Ordreth's temple with its wall as shining as mirrors; a man with a silver tunic was standing in front of the door, his hands crossed upon the handle of his sword, which point was turned to the ground. A black scar was marking his left shoulder.
"Stay here," whispered Delilah to Tyrael. "You won't like inside."
He nodded and she went quickly to the door, stood in front of the man, hands on her hips, defying him.
"Well, Yggard, are you going to look at me for the rest of the day?"
"Be polite, Guardian! I wasn't told not to kill you!"
"Come, Yggard, come, I've been waiting for that day with impatience!"
They looked at each other, each one having the hand on their sword, and then they burst out laughing.
"Go, Delilah," said Yggard, "and be careful."
"I don't plan to die yet," smirked Delilah passing next to him with a tap on the shoulder.
Tyrael shook the head with a light smile: these humans were impossible to understand. It was really fascinating.
Ordreth, though god of chaos, liked light and thus numerous torches lighted the way in the temple. She opened the small door marked with Ordreth's rune - a black circle around a white disk. There was just a table in the room, with six silver beakers on it. She walked confidently to it; she had never failed the test and had walked away from it only twice in ten years. All the beakers contained a blackish liquid and all of them smelt horrible.
She took the first of them and went to the other side of the room, near a torch; she smelled it, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and, after checking she had no wound on her hand, she poured some of the liquid in her palm. It was definitely black and oily; she discarded it like one of the poisons mixed with other ingredients to make it look like the essence of the graves and the chimaera venom. The next one was the chimaera venom and, as usual, she looked at it lengthily; the poison, black liquid, had shimmers and the effect was almost hypnotic; like the essence of the graves, it was smelling bad, but, curiously, lost all odour as soon as it came in contact with another liquid and it lost its colour too. Four beakers were left; the following one was the essence of the graves and she put it aside for later. She would try it once she would have found the antidote, which was the last beaker.
Then, fearlessly, she drank the content of the cup she had put aside; her hand was only slightly trembling when she reached out for the sixth beaker. At the moment the antidote touched her lips she saw the liquid glittering and the taste wasn't the one expected. She knew this happened sometimes to punish those who 'cheated' by looking for the antidote before drinking the essence of the graves: the antidote changed composition and became a virulent poison, generally chimaera venom, which was a favourite of Ordreth, along with the essence of the graves.
She didn't lose her calm, thought she knew she was already condemned. The sixth beaker fell from her hand, hitting the ground with a metallic sound, and Delilah rushed toward the door. Suddenly, in spite of all the torches, the temple was very dark to her and the walls seemed to be twisting under her eyes, as if they were trying to avoid her hand when she was stumbling, while in her ears was sounding a cracked mocking laugh.
She didn't know how she made it outside, nor how she opened the door, but suddenly sunlight surrounded her, making her dizzy. She put her fingers in her mouth, trying to make herself vomit, but she fell, an endless fall in darkness, while the laugh grew louder and louder, passing the temple's doors. Yggard caught her in his arms, calling her name, but her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear anything but that laugh. In a last effort she murmured:
"Tyrael, help me..."
Her heart stop beating and Yggard screamed her name over and over again, rocking her in his arms, tears in his eyes. Delilah would have been happy to see that someone mourned her death, even if he was only a knight of chaos - which wasn't very recommendable.
Tyrael was there immediately, looking down at her face already so pale, her lips half-opened twisted in pain and decoloured. He couldn't realise what his eyes were seeing. Yggard, mourning over her, didn't even care for the Archangel's presence until Tyrael took Delilah from him, suddenly appearing in all his angelic glory, thundering:
"Open the door of this cursed place! The gods will have to answer for this deed!"
"You will find no god in this temple, only wicked priests."
"I don't care for the priests. I need a temple or a holy place and this will have to do!"
"Where are you taking her?" shouted Yggard, running after him.
Tyrael's face showed sadness.
"Where she can fly by my side..."