A Priest Among the Woods: The Temptation of Allegiance

The priest enjoyed his long walks on the island. A peculiar nature hung about the greenwood, the sensation of years far more ancient than the present seemed to calm him, reminding him of the past. The island he so cherished was now under his guidance, the task weighed heavily on him. What was he compared to his predecessors, who had wared with the fiendish mer? Yet in his heart he felt the will to power, the prodding force of ambition pushing him forward towards some unsure destiny. His gods has seen the capacity for greatness and named him greater than all others in his allegiance. It had brought him to the pinnacle of authority on the island, and yet...

He took a new path this day, away from his well trodden path and through the denser woods. He felt compelled by some unseen force to divert this way, but perhaps it was merely his troubled thoughts that kept him away from his responsibilities today. The light gradually faded as he pushed deeper into the thicket, a sense of foreboding would have kept all else at bay but further he trudged on. Soon he was slowed to a plodding pace, having to watch the brabbles that threatened to bring him down to the earth.

Coming to a small glade he finally raised his head, the sight jolted him to attention and he froze. Sitting among the trees was an old man, as gnarled as the pines. A tattered cloak he wore and a hood obscured all but a wiry grey beard. Clutched in his hand, a knotted staff, the wood appearing petrified. “What be thy purpose priest, to venture so long from thy path?” The old man’s voice boomed with a numeration of years unknown. The priest calmed himself enough to answer, “A priest of the drah-gkon my roam wh’re I please old man.” “Ah but thee wand’r too far from safety, perhaps thee shall become lost in the wood.” The old man paused and lifted his head towards the priest, deep behind his rough features were piercing eyes, they were golden. “Give not to despair augurer, for the one thee beholds knows many paths. More so than you or thy dov-rha gods know.” The priest understood the subterfuge, yet was indignant, “What could a hermit possibly hold that thine own lords have not?” The old man eye’s widened and he raised himself up as he spoke, “Knowledge, knowledge that thou art more powerful than thine own masters know.” “Speak plainly old man!” the priest snapped. “Thy blood that thine be blessed with is a path to divinity! It is a curse to thy pretending gods!.” The old man settled back down after he spoke, “Yet thee know not how to accesses thine own pow’r.” The priest stood still and pondered this, he questioned his own thoughts, they turned upon one another in a maelstrom until at length he finally spoke, “How could one learn this power?” The hermit spoke solemnly, “I know much, of this w’rld and beyond...I could teachest thee, for a price.” The priest looked to the ground contemplating this, suddenly he asked, “What be this price?” The priest looked up, the old man had vanished, but a dark voice spoke “Thine allegiance.”