Thursday, March 20, 2014

Lost Faith

Image "Forgotten Ruins" by Matchack over at Deviantart

BAM. BAM. BAM.

The door rattled as it was pounded on. An unspeakably evil voice threatened them from behind the door, but they stood firm. The door they held closed with magic, or their deity held closed for them. The difference was not incredibly clear to most of those present, and even the practitioners were hazy, but warm bodies kept the door closed and they did it by praying and their deity either endowed them with powers, or did what they prayed for, or the power was in them all along, or belief in itself was enough, because for whatever reason, the door stayed shut.

The demon, for his part, communicated with his leader. They did not call the demon leader a God, more because of his leadership style than his level of power - it was similar or equal to the God inside the church, but defending is preferable, especially among beings with patience. However, divine power is affected by number of believers in an area. With demons pouring in and believer number staying static, chaos was winning.

As in most battles there was a larger war present, and the push and pull between angels and demons, god and devil, was multifaceted, with this church as a valuable claim, but one that several smaller victories would make up for.

The church had a priest, several other members of the clergy, and a small population of very pious followers. The priest was mostly pleased that this martyrdom would all but guarantee his sainthood. His followers were hoping for a religious holiday after their ordeal, and had picked up several strange habits they were hoping would become festive. That left intelligent decision making up to the small (probably about six, though records and the story are unclear. six are mentioned by name in related stories) group of paladins from a local order who had been here asking the priest for money to fund protection, armor, training, weapons, and charity efforts. He had refused them when they asked, but by the time the paladins had asked, heard an answer, and decided to leave humbly, demons surrounded the great cathedral. 

Fortunately, it was not worship day, so a small group of people were in the Cathedral, and mostly in the offices, near the chapel. In any case the people of the cathedral anticipated sainthood for the priest and at the very least minimal martyrdom rewards for themselves. That was if they didn't drive away the demons with the force of their conviction. Really, it was win-win.

Most of the habits were harmless. Tom led the children in prayer and then made them honey oats each day for lunch. Susanne climbed the steeple and rang bells on the third day, and due to a minor disturbance elsewhere, demons, by coincidence, were diverted from their fellows and the church to hold a key gate nearby that the angels and their god had diverted forces to attack. In the future, generations would climb the steeple singing, pray in a small chapel that would be built up there, and walk back down somberly. A banjo, flute, and accordion were the instruments they had, and celebrants in the future played these so much, for so many years, mimicking songs of old and writing new songs for the season, that reflected the events of those days.

Not everything stayed peaceful. On the sixth day, the paladin Lane and three men took the chapel back, losing Melvin, a kind practitioner who didn't believe in all the martyrdom nonsense, and just wanted to get home to his family three cities West, in the struggle with three demons. The demons were sitting about, methodically breaking pieces of religious art and relics into smaller and smaller pieces as they waited for orders, when the men used the password to magically unlock the door. Two paladins and three men ran in and took the demons by surprise. Phil was a big man, and he held one demon back by himself while the four paired men took a demon to each pair. Lane's partner Melvin was lost creating the advantage that Lane exploited, then Lane and Phil finished off Phil's demon. 

The chapel was a smaller position, better defensible, with loose rocks that they made into arrow grates in certain places among the walls to the great hall, a basement with an escape (though it did not go far enough away to be a safe escape,) and a scrying pool in the small chaplain's office they could use to survey the area and call for help if they got a chance. The civilians crowded around whenever it was being used, and made it hell to try to use it for anything worthwhile or for any length of time. At nights, the paladins took turns on watch, two at a time, and the survived the first attack which came at night. The next attack brought a hell-hound. Many men and paladins were lost, but they held the chapel. Constantly, conflicting tales were told to the children, either describing the eternal reward for martyrdom, the happiness they would face in just a few days, or promising the children that help would come. Most of the practitioners believed that God would send help, while the clergy were of the martyrdom opinion. The children, especially the loudest, Clint, preferred to be told that help was coming. The clergy hoped Clint would survive somehow, so that they would not have to deal with him.

The final attack came, and the remaining paladins fought valiantly. The clergy used magic to hold the door closed as long as they could, as we have said, and the demon threatened them with vile words, having reached the safe spot right up next to the door. He was shot several times on his way, but did not mind, being of a stronger variety than the others. Their holy water trap had simply angered him. They held the door with prayers and magic, but finally, the demon's leader ordered a strike somewhere else, and the god of the paladins and (nominally) the priests had to divert attention to save a more important location. The monster broke through, and before much time had passed, the paladins had fallen, and the rest of the folk followed shortly. They took this demon down but the ones who followed finished off the cathedral-folk. The desecration of the cathedral was far more powerful than the martyrdom (martyrs, it seems, are far more effective in morale against those who rule than those who slaughter and destroy.) The area was changed into a summoning pit, but the outline of the church remains. Much later, someone would recall the priest and paladin and clergy and practitioners' memories, and a revival of the religion celebrating that martyrdom, loyalty, and selflessness would rise up, particularly once the demons actually had largely won the war and the god of the cathedral and the paladins had power mostly wrapped up in public opinion, influence, and miracles rather than armies. 

The demons, eventually, were overthrown, and the cathedral became a religious attraction, known for its ability to bolster faith, but nothing lasts forever. Celestial war came back to the region, and was known, for many years, as  a cyclical part of the natural order.

"Lost Faith" Flash Fiction © Ben Clardy V
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.


Postscript: I would have liked to get this out Tuesday, but that is the way the cookie crumbles. I will be working to catch up, but if you don't see it by tomorrow night, don't expect me to finish the week. Love you guys who read this stuff. Hopefully soon there will be enough of you interested in reading it that I can say "I do it for you", but for now, this is for me! ;D

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