Lord Vegol Sekilan had been tasked with finding Lord Hades' clerics. He knew they had left the domed city after Merivon's death but he hadn't been able to track them down since then. It was a difficult task, finding a handful of clerics amongst a breed that all looked the same - give or take a few disfigurements.
He wouldn't know who he was looking at until he was close enough to see their markings. The clerics had a habit of cutting themselves and driving ink into their wounds to stain their skin. It was a way of formalising their oaths, for those who had any oaths at all.
Most were wild and uncontrollable but some formed allegiances to senior clerics or lords. Sekilan doubted it was from any sense of duty. The clerics' primitive minds only understood power and violence. If they were loyal to anyone it was for their own benefit alone.
He had been wandering the land for days, questioning every cleric he had come across. Most knew nothing about Lord Hades. Some of the more senior clerics had heard of him but they claimed not to know which clerics had declared loyalty to him. If he was dead their oaths wouldn't matter anyway. This was the conversation Sekilan had been having over and over again.
After visiting many of the main settlements, he had taken to travelling to the more remote villages, and so it was that he came upon three clerics living in a desolate place called Midra.
The settlement had existed for hundreds of years though it had never grown beyond a few dozen dwellings. It sat in the lowlands where the wind blew hard and the rain was unforgiving. It was raining even now, a cold drizzle falling from a permanently grey sky. The smell of poultices hung in the air. The clerics had been mixing mud and herbs, grinding them together to form cures for various ailments. They traded their poultices for food and other supplies, living out their meagre, pointless existence along the riverbank.
When he saw the ink marks on their arms he knew at once that he had found what he was looking for. The symbols were little more than clumsy outlines of three triangles with single lines slicing through their centre - the symbol of the Techno Prophet.
They didn't notice him approaching at first. They were too caught up in grinding some paste in wide stone bowls. An animal lay on the ground between them with its guts spread out on both sides. It was still breathing, its eyes wild and staring. It whimpered as they held it between them before tearing it apart. One stepped back holding a bloody leg while the other held its head and torso in his arms. Blood spilled across the floor between them as the animals' life blinked out.
'You were loyal to Lord Hades,' Sekilan said, walking up behind them.
They regarded him with disinterest until he pulled a red stone from his pocket and held it glowing in the palm of his hand. They knew it what it was. It had once belonged to a senior cleric called Hurbola. The fact that his fire stone had fallen into the hands of a lord meant that he was now dead. They didn't need to know how he had died. They would assume Sekilan had killed him, and that meant he was strong enough to kill them too, even without the fire stone. Their stance changed as their small black eyes regarded him with suspicion. A dozen or more clerics wouldn't be able to take it from him and there were only three of them nearby.
'You bear the markings of the Techno Prophet,' he said.
The clerics barked in their own language, admitting that they had once been in Lord Hades' service, but he was dead now. They had no master anymore.
'I am your master now.'
The clerics regarded him with weariness. He didn't doubt that they would fight him before accepting his words, even knowing that they couldn't win. Violence would always be their first language, but for now they just regarded him with beady black eyes.
'How did you escape the Dome Shield?' he said, stepping closer so he could look down on them to reinforce the impression that they were now under his command.
The largest cleric was standing some distance away. He turned and charged, his face a mass of black warts and loose hanging flesh. He covered half the ground between them in a matter of seconds, running with a bow-legged stance before Sekilan held out the fire stone and sent a cloud of crimson light towards him.
The cleric burst into flames, his body igniting as soon as the light touched his skin. The flames were unnatural, sticking to his body as they devoured his flesh, melting the skin and burning deep into his arms, chest and face. The cleric grunted, staggering in a half circle before tripping over his own feet and planting his face firmly in the ground.
The others watched with wary uncertainty.
'How did you escape the Dome Shield?' Sekilan said again.
'We took oaths,' one of them barked.
'But your master is dead.'
'The oaths still stand.'
'Then you will die with him.'
Sekilan lunged forwards, plunging a black-handled dagger into the guts of the cleric who had spoken. Blood spilled onto the ground between them as the cleric swung a fist, catching Sekilan on the side of the head. He had been careless, getting so close. The cleric swung again even as Sekilan pulled the dagger upwards, slicing through his guts before driving the blade up into his heart. Only then did the cleric let out a series of agonised barks. His bow legs buckled as he tumbled backwards, landing heavily on the ground.
The last of the three clerics backed away, his flat face a mass of twisted lips and broken teeth.
'How did you escape the Dome Shield?' Sekilan said, walking towards him.
The cleric snarled but put up no fight. Even his stupid mind could figure out what would happen if he didn't answer Sekilan's questions. 'Tunnels,' he said in his own barking language.
'Where?'
'I can show you.'
'I'm your master now, I Lord Vegol Sekilan! Remember who you belong to!'
The cleric bowed, offering no further resistance. He was no more trustworthy than a hungry wolf in a field full of sheep but his temporary obedience would suffice for now. Sekilan slipped the fire stone back into his pocket, wiping the dagger on his robe.