Jude Ellstar - 1. The Calling

The bell tolled from the tower at the centre of the temple, ringing its demanding message for all to hear. The resonance palpable to those in the courtyard working at their allotted tasks.
Jude looked up to see the sun was high in the sky, marking the time for the midday ceremony. She put her hands on her hips and arched her back, stretching out the knots earnt from her labours. There were many tasks to do in the temple of Lathander, but today she was working in the herb garden. Tending to the medicinal plants needed to aid those in pain or childbirth. Young as she was, it was still a chore to be bent over all morning. She looked down at her simple habit, the white cloth was stained with mud and sweat. Around her were her fellow acolytes, but for some reason they had manged to avoid the mud during their tending of the plants and were moving with ethereal grace towards the temple door. She had always lacked that grace she had spied in the other women, being a lot taller than her compatriots and even than most of the other temple staff. She always saw herself as the gangling foal, all legs and dyspraxia.
“Jude! Come on, you’ll be late again” called a girl at the temple doors. Her blonde hair blowing beautifully in the summer breeze. “Of course it was.” Jude thought “She probably didn’t smell of horse shit and sweat either!” What she actually shouted was “I’m coming Aurelia, thank you.” Jude half walked, half ran across the courtyard to the large wooden door. This led to the back of the temple with the main double studded, wooden door at the front facing out onto the street of the temple district. She was quickly ushered to a spot by Aurelia, who patted the seat next to her as an indication that Jude should place herself there. Jude plonked herself down with her usual lack of dexterity. All the other acolytes were already seated, and Jude was conscious that the entire congregation was looking her way. She tried to slump down as was her usual way, to hide her height and broad shoulders. Like all acolytes in the church, she was fit and muscled, but that didn’t help her feel that she stood out, as she was a lot larger than most of her peers. Oh, and she dared to have large breasts, well larger than her fellows. That caused all sorts of issues, none of which were welcome.
Aurelia whispered into Jude’s ear “What an exciting day! We have a cleric visiting from his mission and he’s delivering the sermon.! Fervour burning in her eyes as she leant forward to see who was sat in the pews at the front.
Aurelia and Jude had been dedicated to the church at the same time when they had reached thirteen and had remained friends all that time, as they now headed towards their eighteenth birthdays. They had been given the same birthday, being orphans, as nobody knew the actual date. Jude often thought about why this intelligent, beautiful lady had remained friends with her. Jude was pale, raven haired, sullen and honestly a bit of an ass. Her sarcasm and lack of respect for the church and those associated with it, was legendary. All that said, Aurelia’s loyalty was absolute and she stood up for Jude when others took it upon themselves to berate her.
Jude smiled at the number of times that this diminutive girl had squared up to her fellow acolytes on her behalf. Jude had never needed it, she had other skills to defend her honour, but she always appreciated the bravery. “I wonder who it is.” Aurelia continued oblivious to those around her giving pointed stares or shushes.
Silence settled as Father Antillius stood and walked to the altar, he was in his sixties but was still hale. His steps full of purpose, as he climbed the few steps before turning around to face his congregation.
“May the morning light touch you all.” He intoned.
“And you, Father.” Replied those in the temple chamber. Their voices loud and clear and echoing slightly off the high, vaulted ceiling. The roof timbers arching like ribs holding the heart of the church below.
“Today is a bright and special day as we have one of our own returned from his journeys. Sir Markus has been out serving our god for many years and is here to remind us of our purpose. Why we strive to educate the world and why we continue to peer into the mysteries of the eternal rebirth. But before we hear from him, let us hear the Acolyte Choir as they sing the praise to our lord Lathander.” Antillius backed up a step and raised his arms and looked to the back of the room to the rows of the white dressed dedicants.
They all stood up and again, Jude felt out of place as she kept standing, a full head taller than anyone else. They had been singing the Song of Praise in this room for years but today was going to be a little different. Jude had to deliver a solo as a punishment.
She had been caught sneaking out of the temple after midnight. She was irritated to say the least, not because she’d been caught but because it had been that particular night. She’d struck up a conversation with a certain young man in the market that morning as she had bought provisions, and he had told her about a gathering of young people. A party in the woodland to the east of the city where there would be dwarven spirits and elvish ale. This was just too big a temptation for Jude and she planned everything carefully, or so she’d thought.
She’d snuck out many times before without a hitch, as she knew how to avoid the temple guards and she had a key to the postern gate. That key had come to her possession during a dice game with some of the boys in the temple. Her clothes versus their key, they were easy prey as she played the naïve maiden. She’d been cheating at dice for a decade at least. Their disappointment showed as they lost round after round and Jude stayed very much dressed.
How was she to know that they’d changed the guard rotas with the investiture of a new captain. Even after being caught by the city guards, that key remained hers. She had been marched back to the temple gate, and rather than letting her find her own way back in, they had led her to Father Antillius’ study. The conversation had been very one-sided and a very angry Antillius explained to her that she had nearly fallen for a scam, one designed to get naïve young girls to head out into the woods where they were trussed up and then sold off to the highest bidder in the orcish or barbarian tribes to the North. She wasn’t sure she believed what the old cleric has said and that his speech had been designed purely to frighten her. To be honest, she had been frightened, she wasn’t used to being told no, but maybe it had been a good lesson.
Up to this point, she had been singing with the others, like an automaton not really concentrating as her mind wandered. But it snapped back as her solo was coming up, and like that, her mind froze and emptied of all words. The whole world reducing in her vision as a blind panic forced its way into her head. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. The whole room watched silently as Jude struggled to find the voice she needed, each second that passed made it more uncomfortable. She reached out and asked for guidance and then like lightning in her brain, she was back in the room and had the words. Her voice rang out loud and clear, a strong contralto filling every corner of the temple. She finished the last stanza and felt a calm settle on her as her fellow acolytes joined in for the final chorus. Aurelia was staring at her as they finished and sat down again.
“Where did that come from!” she loud whispered at Jude.
“Where did what come from?” Jude settling back to her rather self-conscious slouch.
“I have known you for five years and I’ve never heard you sing like that! Ever. It was…enchanting. You were amazing Jude!”
“No idea what you mean.” Jude whispered back, studiously staring forward. No one was shushing them or giving pointed looks, but many of the audience looked at Jude in what seemed like a new light.
Antillius stepped forward again and addressed his congregation. “That was beautiful, thank you Choir. Now please everyone, give your attention to Sir Markus.”
A man stood up from the front pews, not particularly tall, but certainly well-muscled with flowing blonde hair. He walked to the front to stand next to Antillius and turned to the crowd to start speaking. He was possibly in his forties with a tanned, weathered face. Like so many of those found in Chark who adventured around the Theocracy.
“Thank you, Father Antillius,” he said, his voice like gravel across a board.” I have waited so long to come back and deliver a sermon to the faithful.”
As he spoke those few words, a ringing started in Jude’s ears, a constant tone.
Markus continued “You, the faithful, you all have a responsibility to the people of this fair city and, indeed, to the whole of Chark. You must take the word of the Dawn and New Beginnings to the faithless, the needy, to the rich and to the poor. No person in any standing or occupation is above our Morning Lord.”
The ringing in Jude’s ears was worsening, a compelling sense that something was wrong. She glanced around the audience as Markus droned on about his sanctimonious journey. The feeling grew as she spotted an individual sat in the front left pew. The figure was a man, dressed in black, leaning forward, listening with rapt attention. Too much in her view and that made her wonder who he was. From behind, she could see he had brown hair, neatly coiffured. The feeling she was experiencing now spread throughout her body. Evil, she could feel evil emanating from this black-clothed man. She had never experienced anything like this before and didn’t know how to process it, her mind working in overload. Markus finished off his speech “And that, beloved faithful, was how I managed to convince the Gathrak tribe to convert to Lathendar. The orcs were truly grateful to have seen the light.”
The audience broke into claps and cheers, not often heard inside this holy church. One man wasn’t cheering. As the noise tailed off and the smiling Markus raised him hands to accept their blessing. The man in black stood up and called out to Markus. “Are you sure the orcs really wanted to convert? Are you sure they listened to your pompous rhetoric?”
Markus, whilst at first taken aback at being heckled, quickly recovered and addressed the man.
“Yes, good sir, I’m sure. Their chieftain gave me this totem as a token of their respect.” Markus help up a doll made from straw.
The man in black peered at it and spoke. “Ah yes, the tracking spell is still quite strong on it. The reason I asked if you’re sure, is because they paid me to follow you and kill you.” This sentence was delivered deadpan and before anyone could react, the black clad man leapt at Markus and stabbed him with a long dagger deep in his stomach. “They said to make it as painful as your whining sermons were to them.”
Markus gagged and stumbled, letting the man in black pull the dagger to the side, ripping his belly open. Markus fell to the floor desperately trying to hold his guts in, as they looped and slipped through his grasping fingers. That’s when the screams started. The whole congregation fell into panic and started pushing to get out of the room. Gone was the feeling of brotherly and sisterly love, replaced with the need to survive and damn anyone that got in their way.
A few of the temple staff started to move towards the assassin, but quick as a fox he grabbed Antillius and held the knife to his throat. “Stop right there all of you!” He said calmly. “If anyone comes for me, this priest will die.”
The temple guards stopped in their tracks, watching for an opportunity but not willing to risk their high-priest’s life.
The assassin continued “I am going to walk towards that door and no one is going to try and stop me. I’ll then release this old man and we can all go about our business. Well, apart from him.” The man in black nodded towards the dying Markus. “His business is done.”
The congregation had mostly left now, along with the acolytes at the back of the room, apart from one tall lady dressed in a muddy while robe. Jude was stood in complete calm as all her fears dissipated. She stepped out from the pew and began to wark along the aisle towards the altar and the dying Markus.
“Stop right there, bitch” The assassin called to her as she continued her journey. Each footstep a barefooted honour to her god. A beautiful voice rang in Jude’s head, a multi-timbred tone of pure light and hope.
“You are mine Jude, now heal that man. Save him from those grievous wounds. I give to you the power and skill. Honour your god and provide succour.”
Jude felt a rushing energy pour through her veins, one that was both terrifying and euphoric at the same time. She felt her god inside her, in every cell.
She raised her hands and a blinding aura encircled her. She looked at the assassin and a bolt of pure radiant light short from her and hit him square in the face making him stagger and drop the knife. As the light faded, the ruin of the man in black’s head could be seen by all. A burnt and blistered mockery of a face. The guards were stunned as the assassin fell to his knees. Just as another bolt shot from Jude’s hand and blew his head clean off.
“Fuck you”, she spat, “No one calls me bitch”.
As she got control of her temper, she saw that Markus had already died from his wounds.
She heard the voice in her head sigh with an angelic beauty. “Ah well, maybe next time.”