The aftermath of the battle at the Surekeels’ house was longer reaching than I would’ve thought it would be. The prince and his men had cleared out the rest of the undead with very few casualties and returned as many of the dead as possible to their respective families for a decent funeral. What was left of the undead I’d burned was almost completely unrecognizable, so those bodies were given a common funeral.

  In a world with frequent attacks by monsters, everyone lived within walls, as would be expected. Every bit of space inside walls was utilized for the living, so there were no burial plots or mausoleums within the city. The way funerals were handled was by building pyres and burning bodies in the Place of the Dead outside the city. The prince’s men had piled the corpses of the cultists next to the refuse pit to be burned with the city’s trash, and Sivash’s body was on the top of the pile, stripped of his armor. I’d bet anything that this was done to make a statement to those who were paying their respects to families of the many victims at the nearby Place of the Dead.

  The Place of the Dead was close to the city’s east wall, on the opposite side of the city from the river, and amongst the farmers’ relatively peaceful fields. The prince had wisely stationed a great many soldiers in the fields today to make absolutely certain that everyone venturing outside the walls were safe. Our whole family joined the Bakers and proceeded from the city behind a cart that was full of firewood with a pine coffin on top containing Fay’s body.

  The Place of the Dead was kept by the Tender clan, a family whose specialty was the dignified treatment of the dead. They kept many small, single-step, stone platforms for individual pyres that surrounded a much larger stone platform where many people could be cremated at once. Out of respect, the Tenders had made sure that one of the smaller, private platforms was reserved for Fayorette, for which we were very grateful. Many of the victims of the cult were less fortunate people whose families could not afford for them to be cremated or who didn’t have families at all. Those were cremated together on the larger, central platform. The Tenders were busily, but respectfully, constructing the central pyre as we neared our platform.

  There were other families who had turned out earlier than us and were watching their loved ones burn. As we passed, they saluted Dortham or bowed their heads respectfully. Dortham had kind words for each one, but Nora could do little more than hold onto Dortham’s strong arm and try to stifle her sadness. Elric, Darek, Bran and I lifted Fay’s coffin off the cart, set it next to the platform, and began building the pyre as the rest watched. By the time we’d finished building the pyre, everyone we knew was gathered around. A Tender gave Donin a lit torch with a solemn bow. He stared for a long moment at the torch, then he and Johala set the torch under the pyre together, hand in hand.

  “Go with God, Fay, my sweet girl,” Donin said.

  We stood vigil for an hour as the pyre burned, taking Fay with it into the sky. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts during this time, and I reflected on memories with Fay, both good and bittersweet. She was really nice, and I was going to miss her. We all were. Eventually the fire consumed nearly everything, and we turned to go.

  We and the Bakers mourned together for many days. The Bakers were just too heartbroken to get back to their normal routine. Fay had been a good, decent person and everyone she knew had loved her. They had a constant stream of well-wishers and people brought food to them every day for a week. It showed a lot of kindness.

  There was something else, though. There were many men that came by to express their condolences to Donin, and while they were there, some of them thanked Dortham for some undescribed deed that he had done them a long time ago. It happened several times, and each time Dortham became more reserved. It made me think of those nights when Dortham couldn’t sleep and went out for walks for some reason. I thought there was something about Dortham that he didn’t tell his children, and that it involved doing things that the prince’s men couldn’t do. Whatever it was, Dortham had earned a great respect from his peers for it, and I only learned the truth of it in the years to come.

  Elle was a very bright figure in the house, and she helped both the Bakers and our family get through our time of mourning. She was well acquainted with grief and heartache, and she used that experience to better the lives of the rest of us. She and Bran still jogged together around the inner walls of the upper city every day. Though they weren’t really courting yet, no one was fooled. I’d have bet anything that they were destined to be together.

  One Threeday evening at dinner, the family was very quiet. The rain sometimes had that effect on us. It darkened the house, so that evening we ate by candlelight. When we’d all eaten what we wanted, just before Nora was going to start the cleanup, Dortham cleared his throat. We all turned to him in silence.

  “It occurs to me that I’ve never spoken to my sons together about our family history,” Dortham said. Bran and I shared a look. This would be interesting. “The Smith family’s been living in Stonekeep since the time of the Crix Wars and the time of the Breaking. Your ancestors numbered some of the finest warriors in The United Army, and they all fought with distinction, even to the death. In the times since the Crix were finally destroyed, they settled here, and their progeny was always among the strongest and most able people in Aldon. As such, the Smiths have always attracted the attention of angelic beings.”

  This was the last thing in the world I expected Dortham to say, and even Elric looked at our father with mouths agape. You could have heard a pin drop. Even Bandit had stopped eating her last tidbits and looked at Dortham like she could understand our conversation. She was just a raccoon, though, so I was sure I’d been mistaken.

  “Angels?” Darek said.

  “Yeah. Angels,” Dortham said steadily. “Did you think the demonic rituals and the dark powers harnessed by that Surekeel swine were a fluke? Didn’t you wonder where that came from?”

  “I did, actually,” Darek said.

  “You saw the powers manifested in Elle, didn’t you?” Dortham asked Darek. “Where’d that come from?”

  “The stories of the old priesthood are real, aren’t they?” Bran asked.

  “Of course, they’re real,” Dortham said. “You’re looking across the table at the first true priestess since I don’t know when. Who do you think gave Elle the power she used in the Surekeel battle? Why do you think she was gifted with it?”

  Elle had the humility to blush and lower her eyes. She’d never said anything about it to anyone that I knew of. I personally hadn’t had any answers, so I stopped wondering about how she got her powers and why. I knew better than to ask her. She just would have walked away. Now, however, my curiosity was piqued again.

  “Supernatural forces exist. Angels and demons exist. The One God is real, despite what the Church of the Overgod wants you to think,” Dortham said. “And despite their best efforts to crush all dissent, we have at our dinner table a real, live priestess and a descendent of Mordon. A half-witted one, granted, but a Mordonian, nonetheless.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Trust Dortham to poke a son a little to lighten the mood. That last comment prompted some grins and ribbing from my brothers, and made my ears burn a little bit. Not only because I could use magic, but because I wasn’t really a Smith. Dortham seemed to see right through me, and addressed it with the next thing he said.

  “Jeron, you may not be a Smith by blood, but you’re definitely a part of this family. The fact that you’re adopted has nothing to do with it.” Dortham said. “You’re my son the same way Elle’s my daughter. Nora and I feel that way about you too, Mira, so you won’t be excluded from any of the insults we casually throw around at each other.”

  “That’s fine, as long as the insults have some intelligence behind them,” Mira said with an impertinent look on her face. We had a good laugh at that.

  “Granted,” Dortham said. Then he got serious again. “The reason I bring up family history is because we’ve all had our noses rubbed in the dung heap of fallen angels. You all know by now that there’s real spiritual warfare going on, and I’m telling you that angels of light and dark have been interested in this family for a long time. Not all of your ancestors have been on the side of light.”

  Now this was surprising to us all. “Who among our ancestors was ever on the side of darkness?” Bran blurted out.

  “I was, for one,” Dortham said. That was shocking. He paused for a moment for us to absorb it. “You see, I was a vigilante, a man people would come to when the prince couldn’t help them, and I got things done the hard way.” A series of denials flew out of everyone’s mouths. We’d never known our dad to be a ruthless killer, and we were all blind-sided by it.

  “He was, actually,” Nora said quietly. That was an earth-shattering thing to say. None of us had ever heard her say anything even remotely untrue, and it silenced all of us.

  “You see, sons, I fought for the good of the weak, and I fought to help people, or so I thought. At first. I know firsthand that fallen angels can take physical forms straight out of nightmares, but they can also take the form of angels of light. They can fool you as I was fooled, and I don’t want that to happen to any of you.”

  “How’d that happen?” Darek asked.

  “How’d you not know the difference?” Bran asked.

  “Angels of light and fallen angels can look the same when they choose to appear to mortals. The difference is in the reasons why they ask you to do things,” Dortham said. “Be sure to test the spirits before you accept anything they say, because they’re very long lived, and they’ve learned all sorts of tricks over the millennia. I was approached by an angel of darkness once, and he convinced me to become a vigilante in order to help people. In the end, I realized I was committing hateful acts towards people I suspected of evil deeds. I wasn’t always right in my judgements, and I did things that were destroying the good person I was. I was left with a lot of pain and misery, most of which I bear to this very day. Sivash Surekeel tried his best to hurt me, and you heard him shout it in my face when he did his worst, so let that be a lesson to you all. The point is that you have to look at the fruit of actions to see the reasons why, and you have to think and be grounded in godly teaching to do what’s right. We haven’t had a real church teach us that, which is why you will have to pass down to your children the lessons your mother and I have taught you.”

  “When did you quit?” I asked.

  “Too late. It’s not important,” Dortham said. “What’s important is that I can foresee some of us at this very table being caught up in these spiritual wars, and I want you to know what’s coming. I can tell you from experience that there’s a big personal cost to doing the wrong things for the right reasons.” He looked especially hard at me when he said that.

  “But how do you know we’ll be getting into the middle of spiritual wars?” Bran asked.

  “When’s the last time a true priestess and a Mordonian Sorcerer sat at a table and ate a meal together?” Dortham retorted. “The business with the Surekeels and the composition of our family are not a coincidence. If you think that, you need to look at the bigger picture. Sometimes the larger view will show you things you missed that are happening right under your nose. There’re some things that we can trust absolutely, though. God is sovereign over all creation, and He can be trusted to plan for the things that we never see coming and to use them for the good of those who love Him. If you can see what God wants you to do and act on it, then everything will fall into place. It may not be the most pleasant things you have to do in His service, but you and those around you will always be better off when you’re on His side. Make sure the things you do line up with God’s character, and you should be all right. Sometimes things just happen, and you won’t know you’re in any kind of spiritual war, but if you know what’s right and do it, you’ll be all right.”

  That shut everyone up. We all thought about what he said for a while. There was no need for him to elaborate. Now that he said that out loud, I started to see things differently. Dortham was usually right about the important things, too. No one had anything meaningful to say after that, so we each did our part to help clean up the meal and had a quiet evening before going to bed.

  After our time of mourning, when father went back to work in the smithy, the prince appointed Dortham to the Council of Elders, giving him Sivash’s vacant position. Fortunately for us, the prince didn’t ask us any questions about the nature of the burning deaths of the undead and cultists. Maybe he knew about the wizard with us and thought he did it, but the prince’s eye never seemed to turn to me, thank God. The prince was diplomatic about the situation but did not seem to be fooled. I thought it likely that there’d be repercussions of these events later, though.

  As a town elder, father still worked his smithy every day, but sometimes he had to leave to deal with a matter of importance to the city. He was widely respected in Stonekeep because of his fairness and outward example, and our business picked up as a result, which was good for the whole family. Time passed, and gradually our emotional wounds healed.

  I thought a lot about the battle at the Surekeels’ home and came to the conclusion that I was meant for bigger things, just like Dortham had said. In my opinion, I really didn’t think too highly of myself at the time, but it was just that I’d inherited some very powerful gifts, and I thought that sooner or later it was inevitable that I’d be using them for the benefit of others. That must’ve been why Dortham spoke about spiritual battles and such. I could be defending the city someday or fighting off some form of personal attack for a friend or loved one.

  I took it seriously and thought of how easily those crazed cultists had knocked me around, heavy armor or no, and this had given me a more accurate perspective. Sure, I was only sixteen, and at that age, we all think we’re immortal, but I knew I was definitely no legendary hero. Not yet, anyway. Shortly after the battle, I adopted a regimen of physical exercise that included things like sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups with a bar I had hung from the ceiling in the smithy. Bran saw the wisdom in this and joined me at my exercises every morning. My brothers and I also practiced fighting for at least a couple of hours each day after dinner, and most importantly, Dortham gave us a great deal of instruction.

  Bran and I had been preparing for military service for a while now, and we’d both learned to make our own armor, swords and maces, which we’d put to good use in the Surekeel battle. I admit that I was a little too proud of having made my own arms with the money I’d earned while working with my father. He’d shared the smithy’s profits with all of us fairly as we earned it. My battle gear was no masterwork, at least not outwardly, but very few people could claim to have made the armor they wore. I had the feeling I’d need it, too, and not just for our coming militia duty.

  Over time, I’ve noticed that people tend to be affected greatly by the work they do. The Smith family was no exception. Our family was as strong as steel, tempered like a fine blade, and hardened like a blued armor plate. Our world is a dangerous place, and Dortham made sure we knew how to navigate it. When I looked back at the events of my childhood, I noticed that Dortham and Nora were always there preparing us for the worst the world could throw at us. I knew hard times would come, too. In times like that, quitting’s not an option. Thanks to my adoptive parents, I felt I had the fortitude to rise to any challenge. Like my sword, I felt like I’d been well tempered by my experiences thus far. I may bend under duress, but I would not break. I’d fight on, no matter the pain. Without a doubt, those battles would come.