Sanctuary (Dominion) (6 page)

I groaned, tired of dwelling on obstacles, so instead I thought of the stories Humbert would tell when he had a little wine in him, trying to raise my spirits. Just last week he’d recounted a trip he'd taken to Brittany a few years ago. The lord he'd stayed with had an unnatural obsession with hairless women, forcing the ladies of his court to shave their heads like men, yet still parading them around in fancy gowns. Humbert thought it hilarious, and his infectious laughter kept everyone around him smiling all night. That old priest had always been an excellent storyteller, captivating a room with his words, along with his subtle embellishments, and his travels throughout the world gave him a bevy of stories to tell.

I thought back to his journal, and it saddened me to know that Humbert would never see it, or its treasured tales, again, but the more I dwelled on it, the more I wondered why anyone would steal it in the first place. The parchment had some value, but not to illiterate thugs, and if that’s really what they wanted, they could have taken mine, too. But a lot of what the raiders did made no sense, like killing everyone in the church. The entire ordeal was so terribly pointless. But that was always the case with violent, unreasonable men, and unfortunately, this world was full of them.

A short, thick-bodied man appeared on the hill in front of me, catching me by surprise. He wore a long coat made of fox fur that hung almost to his knees, cinched around his torso with a leather belt, dark wool pants, leather boots and a fur cowl pulled low over a hairy, bearded face. A sickly horse followed him, loaded down with tied-off stacks of furs and pelts from a variety of animals.

He slowed as we approached each other on the path.

“Priest?” he asked. I nodded out of habit. “Begging your blessing, Father.” He bowed his head, waiting.

“Of course," I said. My blessing wouldn’t carry the weight of an ordained priest, but I had long ago tired of explaining that distinction. "Tell me, though, did you pass another man headed this way? Tall, with a sword?”

“Aye. Scary one, that is.”

I tried to appear impassive. "How long ago?"

"Mmmmm," he considered the question, "been a while now. You're not likely to catch him today."

I grunted in defeat. I’d expected as much even though I hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself. I would need to think carefully now on how I expected to get through the night alone. "I see. What is your name?”

“I am called Ethelbald, Father.”

“Well, Ethelbald, may God bless you on your journey. And know that I shall pray for your soul." I made the sign of the cross, and he bowed his head and did the same.

“Thank you, Father.” He reached into his coat and I heard the faint jingle of coins.

"No, no silver." I held up my hand in protest. "Although, would you have something on your horse there that I could use to cover my head? Something small?"

He considered the request, deciding if the blessing was worth one of his precious wares. He must have decided it was, because he rummaged through the stack of pelts and pulled out a small hareskin just big enough to wrap over my head. "Got no straps for ya, but take that to a tailor and they can fix you up."

"Thank you," I said. I wished I'd been brazen enough to ask for one for my hands, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. "You've helped me out more than I can say. God speed you on your journey.”

“Aye," he said, glancing up at the sky. "Dark days coming. Not safe to be out here.”

I nodded and gave a curt bow of farewell, which he awkwardly returned. We both continued on our way, but then I stopped. “Why do you say that?” I asked.

"Eh?" he said, his eyes squinting out from a mass of hair and fur.

"Dark days. What do you mean?" Humbert said those exact same words to me. I found it strange to hear them again.

“Winter’s coming,” he said, lazily motioning to the grey skies. “Shouldn’t be out on the roads.”

“Ah. Right. Of course. God be with you.” I waved, he bowed his head, and we both walked away from each other, his words still hanging on my soul.

*****

I'm not sure how long I wandered about in the dark once the sun set. I'd forced myself to trudge onward blindly for so long that time lost meaning. I could have stopped when dusk came. I could have made a fire, nibbled on my provisions, and bundled up against some trees, but for some reason, I hadn’t yet decided to do that. Things like rest, food, and warmth seemed pointless if I let Arkael get away, which he would surely do in the morning. I think I’d somehow convinced myself in this disorienting darkness that if I didn’t find him now, I never would again. So I walked, and I would continue to do so until I couldn’t.

The road north led to a thick forest, which I reached just as the sun dipped past the horizon. I entered with little thought to my safety, ignoring the stories of bandits who lived in woods such as this, preying on unsuspecting travelers in its narrow twists and turns. God hadn't brought me this far just to be waylaid by thieves, I thought warily, and not a little foolishly. Most of the trees were bare of leaves by now, so once the sun fell and the moon rose, I could see parts of the path before me from the thin streaks of moonlight shining through the treetops. But I still stubbed my toes on buried roots, and I tripped over fallen branches. Each time, though, I would grumble, pick myself up and continue on. I was exhausted, and despite my earlier indifference, I didn’t know how much longer I could go without stopping to sleep. But still I walked. God had a purpose for me. I was doing His work. This would lead somewhere. I was sure of it.

Thus, when I finally saw that fire ahead, to the side of the road, my hopes rose, and I found just enough energy to surge toward it. I hoped it was Arkael, but it could just as easily have been another traveler, or a pack of bandits, or some other unsavory types. I didn't care. I was too tired to worry about danger. The fire beckoned me like a siren with its song of warmth and comfort.

I approached the camp and saw a single figure sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, an apple in hand. The orange glow from the fire lit up his face and I happily recognized Arkael, who didn't seem surprised to see me. I laughed, weakly. I'd done it. I'd caught up to him, like I knew I would. He was just a man after all, one with whom I could walk, and eat, and share the comfort of a fire. My victory was tempered, however, by overwhelming fatigue. He said nothing as I stumbled off the road and stood at the edge of his camp, every ounce of stamina gone from my body.

"Can I sleep here?" Those were all the words I could muster.

Arkael examined my weary visage, no doubt deciding if he’d continue to toy with me. After an unnecessarily long moment of contemplation, he nodded and I found some level ground near his fire and laid down my satchel. Sitting down required far too much effort, so I just fell instead, ecstatic to be off my feet. I’d never walked so far at such a pace in my life. And my spent body reminded me of the harsh price I would pay later.

Arkael took a bite of his apple, watching me with a hint of amusement as I tried to warm myself by the fire without expending any more energy than was necessary. "You're persistent," he said through a mouthful of fruit.

“I suppose." I took a deep breath, pulling my extra robe around me while trying to find a spot that would give me the least amount of discomfort.

“Hungry?” I looked up to see that he’d sliced off a bit of his apple with a small knife. He held it out, but I shook my head.

“Maybe in the morning,” I mumbled. “Thank you for the offer, though.” I laid my head down on my arm and let my eyes glaze over while staring lazily at the fire. The flames licked the darkness surrounding it and bits of soot and burnt wood floated off into the air. Arkael watched me in silence.

"You're welcome to travel the same direction as me,” he finally said, “but not the same path. Remember that."

I understood his meaning, and normally I would have tried to glean a few more details from him, but not tonight. I didn’t have the strength or the desire to argue. "Of course. Thank you."

I closed my eyes. As tired as I was, though, sleep did not find me right away. Given a chance to finally rest, my mind made one last attempt to reconcile everything I'd seen today and it found the effort lacking. I looked over to see Arkael leaning back against the tree, staring off at the western sky. I watched him for a while with half-closed eyelids, and I wondered who exactly sat across from me. Was he divine? I'd found him, which suggested otherwise, but could he be something else?

"Have you seen God?" I asked. He blinked, and his eyes darted to me for an instant before settling on the apple in his hand.

"No."

"Has God ever spoken to you?"

He shook his head slowly, as if contemplating a thought or a memory. "No."

Neither answer satisfied me, but I could tell I’d continue to get nowhere with my questions, so I gave up and closed my eyes again. As soon as I’d started drifting off, however, Arkael’s voice broke my near-slumber.

“God doesn’t involve himself in these matters.”

“What?” I muttered.

"Angels and demons," he said, his gaze distant. "They’re the ones who scorch the earth around you. You cannot fathom the lengths they go to over the fate of a man's soul. They battle over each and every one as if there is no greater prize to be had, and they will destroy everything to claim victory. You walk around,” he pointed at me with a stern finger, “without understanding the treasure your flesh carries within it. I see the nightmares made real and the horrors created simply to infect what some men are capable of ruining on their own. I walk the front lines of that battle," he paused, a somber expression covering his face, "and those with me do not long survive it."

He stopped, considering his apple once more. I should have heeded his ominous words more carefully, but I could only get my mind to fixate on certain things.

"Are you an angel?" I asked. He shook his head, so I tried a different approach. "Was Caenwyld a demon?"

"No," Arkael mused. "It's not that simple."

He offered no more information and I didn't have the will to pursue it, even though I should have, given his rare moment of introspection. Instead, I went to sleep, content that I’d found what I was looking for. I would travel with Arkael, and see where his journey took him. I had time to find out what he was, now. With luck I would begin to learn all these things tomorrow.

Chapter 6

The nightmares began that night.

I stood in Rogwallow, only this was a horrid, twisted version of the place I knew. The skies were dark, the houses decayed and crumbling, the grass and the animals dying. All of it corrupted by the evil brought forth by Caenwyld. He stood in front of the church door, preventing me from getting inside, where I would be safe. He looked as he did in life, only bigger, his bony features more pronounced, and his eyes were missing. In their place were two empty holes that leaked blood, only the blood was thick and black, congealed, and as it fell to the ground, it spread, killing everything it touched.

He spoke to me. At first he just repeated what he’d said in the church, about keeping my limbs, and needing only a tongue to do my duty. But I expected that. Once I realized what he was saying, and what he would say next, I didn’t fear him or his threats. But then he strayed. He lifted his head, his empty sockets somehow staring directly at me, and he spoke five little words that woke me from my slumber in a cold sweat.

I find you interesting, priest.

I had trouble sleeping after that. It wasn’t Caenwyld’s words that kept me awake, it was the fact that the nightmare spoke directly to me. Caenwyld, or rather this monster made to look like him, had invaded my mind, and turned his dark gaze my direction, as if suddenly discovering me in my hiding place, and that notion troubled me the remainder of the night.

I must have finally drifted back to sleep, though, because the sound of stomping roused me. I reluctantly opened my eyes to see the early morning hues of sunlight through the branches, and even though I didn't feel the least bit rested I thanked God that the night was over. I rolled over and saw Arkael kicking dirt over the remains of the fire from last night. When he saw me awake he tossed an apple at me, grabbed his bag and walked north.

"Don't fall too far behind," he said. "The bandits around here get up early."

In my waking state, it took a moment to fully grasp his meaning. Both the nightmare and the memories of yesterday were hazy and distant but as Arkael wandered away they flooded back into my mind.

“…Angels and demons…”

“…walk the front lines of that battle…”

“… those with me do not long survive it.”

I winced, realizing that the nightmare was more real than I cared to admit.

I dragged myself off the hard ground, spurred to coherence by the thought of bandits pouncing on me, then froze when my muscles fought back. My legs were tight and unwilling to move, and I can only imagine the awkward sight I portrayed in trying to stand up without bending my limbs more than I had to. Once I got my feet under me I had to stay completely still until my legs relaxed enough for me to hobble off after him.

“So where is it we’re going?” I asked, once I caught up.