The Battle of Tarken Abbey

Early in the Spellwars, an Arcanarch sent an army to a fortress-abbey of the Raven Queen's paladins, the Harbinger Brotherhood, to capture an artifact of power being kept there. The garrison force consisted of roughly two hundred Harbingers; the force sent against them was more than twenty times their number. The Harbinger knight-commander, a deeply pious man named Wendell Turnskull, ordered the gates sealed as soon as word of the approaching army reached him, and the Harbingers of Tarken Abbey settled in for a long siege, for the artifact the foe desired was sacred to the Harbingers. They had been unable to send a messenger for aid before the foe was upon them, and such was Tarken's remoteness that a chance patrol stumbling upon the siege and going for help seemed unlikely. Seeing that the abbey's defenses were as strong as they could be, Knight-Commander Turnskull repaired to the chapel to pray for aid.

For twenty-seven days, Wendell Turnskull and the other Harbinger knights prowled the battlements, watching for any movement on the part of the enemy. For twenty-seven nights, Wendell Turnskull and his lieutenants prostrated themselves in prayer before the altar of the Raven Queen, fasting and even flagellating themselves as a show of faith. The abbey's supplies were sufficient for several months, but each day keen-eyed knights reported that supply caravans arrived to feed the besieging army. Turnskull and the other senior knights discussed plans to sally forth and attack the foe; they knew it to be suicide, but barring a miracle, death seemed the only possible outcome. They were men of stern faith, these Harbingers, and devoted servants of the Raven Queen besides. They did not fear death, but they were sworn to keep the holy relic from the hands of the enemy so long as they lived.

On the morning of the twenty-eighth day, a miracle occurred. In the predawn light, an angel lit upon the battlements of Tarken Abbey, facing west, toward the enemy camp. The Harbingers fell back from the angel in holy fear, for it was in the shape of a woman, robed and hooded in deepest black, its wings dark as a moonless night, and in its right hand it bore a sword of cold iron. It was an angel of death, an instrument of the Raven Queen's divine will. It made no sound, nor spoke a word, nor made any sign that it was aware of the Harbingers' presence. It stood but lightly upon the battlement, fanning its great wings, and waited with the inhuman patience of its kind.

An enemy scout had noised the angel's presence about the instant it had appeared, and there was considerable commotion in the camp beyond the abbey gates. None of the soldiers there doubted that the angel boded ill for them, and hurried preparations were made to leave. But their preparations were for naught. As the sun rose at the angel's back, it raised its sword and spread its night-dark wings, so that its shadow fell across the entire enemy army; and every man whom the angel's shadow touched fell down dead in that instant.

Having slain the enemy army, the angel turned to face the knight-commander, who drew back, ashen-faced, then fell to his knees before his Goddess' divine servant. The angel's voice resounded inside the skulls of all the Harbingers of Tarken Abbey; blood started from their ears and noses and eyes, and their mouths were filled with the taste of iron. "Look well upon the mercy of the Raven Queen, Wendell Turnskull," said the angel. "Our Mistress has heard thy prayers, and been mov'd by them. Thou art worthy; strive always to remain so." So saying, the angel vanished like smoke before a freshening breeze.

Word of the miracle spread far and wide, and never again did any foe of the Raven Queen dare to assail Tarken Abbey.