I Am: Ego

Amazing Grace

Chapter 1: Amazing Grace





"We are the lost who shall not sing, nor love and laugh, our lives destroyed by shadow's sting. From our hands we pass the torch. For now we lay within the Dark. Our light be yours, ere come the break of day..." Prayer of the fallen Legionaughts





A new dawn gently quickened into the day over a bleak horizon. Even as day came however, only a dim twilight yet remained. Even as noontide would surely come; only a sparse light ever shown within the sky to dismally luminate the world. Distant and far away, as if to signify some unreachable hope, was its source. The lands of Arinoh waned empty and devoid of all life save for the trees and birds. Though not even the birds could be made to sing anymore, not since It became. The sharp sound of steel upon stone rang through the air as three young men tended the wall of an old citadel. It had been around for hundreds of years and had stood through countless battles. Now there was no one left who remembered the great things these towers had once seen, and no one left to remember the mighty warriors it saw slain in its days of glory. The three men worked hard through the morning's birth. Brym, a giant among the race of men swung an iron hammer carving the visage of an archon figure into the wall. Arthuer, a smaller man of light complection followed behind him smoothing the carving with a stone before filling it with a mix of clay and diamond dust. The watcher's eyes darted back and forth over the wood line, ever mindful of a danger looming closer and closer each day. His mind raced with the horrible sounds it had been making the night before as it crept along the outside, unable to pass the ancient wards the old priest had helped them to carve into the walls two months before. Had it not been for him, and this mission he would have been back in celadon right now being readied for his promotion to a priest. He was just a cleric after all. A young man, young enough to know everything and still be completely useless at the same time. A rustle in the bushes brought his eyes up from his straying thoughts. The two men with him froze in place, eyes locked on the wood line. After minutes of silence they realized it must have been some small animal foraging for what it may find there. They all knew if it had been near, close enough to reach them, they would have felt the sickening power of its presence. The hairs prickling on their necks and the bile seeping up from their stomachs would have told them for sure of the danger quickening upon them. Another rustle in the bushes broke the uneasy silence that had taken hold and then was gone. Calvin raised his staff and held it tight, nodding to the two carvers to begin packing up for the day. The wood line was a good thirty feet away, with the citadel gates a good fifty in the opposite direction. Calvin had enough for one morning, and it was almost time for breakfast. The sigils could wait. With more movement in the brush and bracken the three were quickly tempted to abandon their chisels and hammers for the safety provided by the grand citadel walls. Just as they packed away the last hammer and chisel, Calvin looked up to see a dark form moving through the bush. It was no bird he thought to himself or any wild animal either. With a shout of alarm to his companions he quickly bolted toward the gate, the two carvers close behind him. It took only a moment until they were standing in front of a large iron door. It took two people to open in any manner of speed, and as Calvin fumbled with the latch the other two quickly began to heave on the door, pulling it to one side. Stepping into the safety of the portal, Calvin peered out as he labored to pull it shut again. He let out a silent string of curses as he pulled the door shut. Arthuer and Brym stared at Calvin in a mix of fright and excitement. Brym gathered what few tools he had salvaged before they fled and began on a journey to the tool shed. “We had best go and fetch the rest after breakfast Arthuer," He said almost mockingly. “We three of us know well enough that old priest will give us another bloody lecture about tidiness and limited resources if we don't." Calvin just let out a sigh and followed after Brym. " So what was it, " Arthuer asked following behind. Calvin Brushed at the bottom of the light brown robe he wore, sweeping away dried mud and twigs. Arthuer reached down and boxed Calvin’s ear gently to get Calvin's attention and wake him from his minds wandering. Arthuer was rewarded with a stern glance and a snort. “It was nothing to be worried of," Calvin spat back at Arthuer. The words were more annoyed than menacing, though Arthuer recoiled from them with a slight jolt away from Calvin, raising his hands palms out ," I surrender". Calvin was the senior of the three standing over both Brym and Arthuer within the temple ranks. Both junior clerics could see clearly something had agitated Calvin. It was not like him to snap or spit harsh words at the two of them. The trio had been anointed acolyte all the same day. Calvin had managed to climb farther, faster than the other two reaching the rank of cleric much sooner in his life. Someone thought he had potential and was eager to prove it by placing him in charge of both Brym and Arthuer. Brym picked up a second bag of tools and shoved it into Arthuers hands, holding another out for Calvin. “Leave him be," Brym said as he smiled,” The old man is getting to him it’s as simple as that. Being out here is enough to have anyone on edge, but that one is enough to drive someone insane with his rules and expectations." Calvin accepted the tool bag and the three continued on toward the small building that had been converted into a makeshift shed. It stood without triumph near the east gate. The guarding sentinel that had minutes ago provided them with what little salvation it had to offer from whatever had been lurking mocked the tiny wooden building with its stature. Brym pulled the flimsy door open letting it swing back against the shed. “Take it easy on the portal you menace, we don’t have any spare hinge to replace it when you tear the bloody thing apart " Arthuer inclined in words to Brym. Brym was an imposing man with a good swing in his arm that did the iron mace he carried justice in battle practice. Even the knights of the arm that had traveled with them were cautious of Brym. He had no lust for blood, he was no great warrior, nor a crusader for the divine was the cleric called Brym. He spent his youth building huts and houses before he heard the Diadems's calling leaving his home for the grand temple in Celadon. Yet often he found himself at the elder’s behest doing more than his share of what dirty work there was to be done. Arthuer and Calvin followed Brym into the shed lugging the heavy tools. Brym reached into a pouch tied to his belt and produced a tiny white pearl. Lifting it to his lips he whispered a minor prayer, causing the precious treasure to glow with a bright, but gentle light. Reaching up Brym dropped the glowing pearl into a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Calvin held up a cluster of dull chisels, handing them off the Brym, “Put them on the high shelf. Well sharpen them later." Brym placed them as high as he could reach, “If you’re worried about someone catching us being lazy I could always hide them on the roof. I’m sure no one will look up there." Brym smiled at Calvin and reached down heaving up a bag of tools Arthuer had been struggling to heft onto the shelf. “You’re both lucky to have an oaf around. You'd never get anything done on your own.” Arthuer snickered and packed away the last of the hammers after the bag was relieved from him, “Well we can’t all be big and dumb. Someone has to think for us." Brym plucked the pearl from the lantern as the last of the tools had been put away, “Your right Arthuer, what would we do without Calvin?” Arthuer and Brym turned their eyes to Calvin, watching him as he leaned against the door staring at the ground. " I think he’s lost again Brym. I swear he just can’t stay in this world for more than ten minutes before he’s off again in that mind of his." Brym tightened his belt and ruffled Calvin's dark brown hair with his large, dirty hand. Calvin stared up with a start, “leave my hair alone you oaf. You’re going to mess it.” Calvin batted Brym's hand away with his own, a doomed struggle to keep the strong fingers from assaulting his head. “Your overdue for a trim. There isn't much worse I can do to it at the moment.” Brym relented his assault on Calvin, and grabbed both him and Arthuer by the shoulder and dragged them out of the shed, “I smell breakfast cooking.” Arthuer shut the rickety door and sallied forth at Brym's will. The man’s uncanny size did not leave either of them room for complaint. Neither Calvin nor Arthuer could truly protest. The nights were always long, and the rations were always light. When it was time to eat it was time to eat and not even the greatest evil the world of the trio had yet known could stop Brym once his stomach bellowed. Calvin’s mind however was not so easily turned from the recent event. He had scarce caught a glimpse of the shadows moving in the forest but his mind would not let go. He knew he had seen It. Looking upward Calvin scanned the horizon. Clouds were forming at the nearby seashore. His voice echoed in his mind as it found silent words. “He will reign today.” Arhtuer glanced over to Calvin, “what was that friend?” Calvin turned his mind back to reality with a gentle start, “nothing, never you mind it. I was just thinking about the sigils. We had best make sure to finish them after the Arm gives the all clear.” Arthuer nodded his agreement. They made their way through the smaller eastern courtyard and into the citadel proper. They were divided by a secondary wall with a gap barely large enough for two men standing abreast to enter. The main yard was empty save for the morning guard as they took up their posts. The nights protectors had already found respite and were no doubt filling the feasting hall in anticipation of the morning meal. As they walked Arthuer and Brym talked amongst each other. Calvin was all but oblivious to every word spoken as he reached into a pouch attached to his belt and produced a rather worried piece of parchment. It was old, ancient even he thought. It was the map that the elder priest had given them. It depicted the sigils and wards that had, and were to be carved. It had shown them in great detail just where to place them on the citadel. Some were already there, just weathered and worn from time. others had to be re-carved completely. They were meant to keep it at bay, whatever it was. So far they had worked for it had yet to enter the citadel. As ravenous as it had been surely if it could have they would all have been devoured, or worse by now.