“…ust lis… ink of…”
The echo returned, slightly stronger this time, but only such that the two could only guess that it was Bel’s voice trying to reach them, but neither could make out what was being said. There was definitely less light around them now, the point where they could only clearly see about twenty feet around them. Everything past that seemed to be hiding amidst some blackened smoke-filled haze.
“Now,” the priest said a bit more impatiently than before, “here’s what I need.”
He gestured to one of the side doors leading to the back rooms, the rooms where Bel had indicated their packs had been safely stored. “In that room there is a floor stone near in the far-left corner that is marked on the corner with a crack shaped like a cross. Lift the stone and underneath, in a plain wooden box, is a silver goblet and a scroll. Simply deliver the two items to your Church, the High Cathedral if you please. They will know what to do with them.”
“And why would we do this?” Kitalia still seemed a bit steamed about the man’s biting comments and it was clearly evident in her tone.
“Two reasons,” he said, waving two fingers in Kitalia’s face, his grin widening as he knowingly caused her anger to boil to the surface. “First, these are relics that belong to the Church. If I can do nothing else, then this shall be the last thing I do for the Faith. Perhaps it will be enough to pay for the sins of my mortal flesh and help me earn a final rest.”
“And second?” Kre asked, dreading the answer, but knowing in his heart what it was likely to be.
“Well,” the priest answered in a tone that was in a much lower register, almost like the purring of a cat. “Second, is that…” the whole room seemed to twist in on them, pulling and pushing them in multiple directions at once yet without ever having moved. The effect was dizzying and Kre’s stomach churned and rolled over on itself, though he was able to keep his feet.
The former priest slammed his hand on the altar, sending a massive spiderweb crack rippling across its surface. “Second,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “is that unless you are carrying the two items, you shall never make it free from my city.”
“Kre!” This time the voice boomed in his head, and he could picture Bel standing next to him yelling into his ear. “Focus on me.”
The strange once-priest growled again and the shadowy aura around his body seemed to be more pronounced, hiding many of his features in the darkness. He jabbed a finger in Kre’s face. “I need you to do this for me, Kre. Your Church needs that relic, and it must not fall into the hands of some junk collector. This is my chance at redemption and your people’s chance at some clarity of the Faith they claim to practice. Do you understand Kre?”
Kre was having trouble looking at the stranger given how wibbly wobbly everything seemed to be going. Bel’s words rang across his mind again and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to picture Bel’s voice and her face as he tried to push down the bile rising in his throat and threatening to depart.
“Kre, deliver the relic!”