Sanctuary (Dominion) (26 page)

“I only came to find her," I said, wiping the salve from my face and hands, “to find Avaline, and help her. I was told you were here before I arrived, and I knew the danger, but I came anyway. I had to try and help her. Sire.”

Cullach nodded thoughtfully and sat on Lorcan's stool. “You sound like a kind man. But I don’t believe in kind men. Kindness is a mask that hides a devious soul.” He stared at me, and I sensed an undercurrent of anger from him that made me stop what I was doing. “Are you a spy? Are you scouting for Rhodric?” He squinted at me suspiciously. “Or are you only here to preach to us, and tell us how we need to be punished for our sins?"

"Neither, lord. I came to find the woman. That is all I meant to do."

"The woman?" He glanced at Avaline in disgust. She lay still on the floor, but her eyes were open, staring off in the distance between Cullach and myself. "This one?"

"Yes, lord. I heard about her from the man you caught named Ewen. I thought I could ease her sickness. That's the only reason I’m here."

Cullach smiled, though it was anything but sincere. "Keep in mind, priest, that I do not suffer your kind, and neither do my men. Priests are unable to do anything but spew words, and spies are only here to appease me until they can plunge a dagger in my back. So let me explain the punishment you will endure if you try either one. One word from me and Lorcan will torture you for days, and it won't be the silly little rituals of today.” Cullach waved his hand dismissively at the tin with the salve in it. “He will open you up, pull out your organs, and bathe in your blood. You'd be begging him to die before he finished… if only he hadn’t already sewn your mouth shut just to keep your magic from saving you. So keep your proverbs to yourself and you may yet live."

I nodded, and said nothing.

"Good. You're learning already." Cullach rose and left without another word, and I started breathing again. Lorcan stepped in immediately after.

"I tire of this game, priest, but we will play again. Soon." He paced about the tent, watching me carefully. Then, he grabbed a pouch off the floor and poured my hair and fingernails into it. "Perhaps tomorrow. You will see my power tomorrow, and you will fear me. You will question your God, and you will find that He has no answers.” He cinched the pouch and tied it to his belt. “Tomorrow, I will watch you squirm."

Chapter 22

After Lorcan left the tent, I huddled against the center beam, staying near the hearth for warmth, and letting myself finally succumb to the fear and guilt that had tormented me all morning. Tears came to my eyes, but they were tears of shame and impotence. I’d been warned not to come here, by Ewen, by Eadwyn, by everyone in Wales, but I’d ignored all of it. My blind, stubborn pride brought me to this island, all in the service of God and His plan for me. And what did I have to show for it? I was tied to a pole in the tent of a vengeful sorcerer, covered in dung, suffering threats to my life for the sins of those who came before me. And worst of all, because of my arrogance I’d lured Ewen right back into the nightmare he’d already escaped. His soul was at stake, and I could never forgive myself if he suffered for my sins.

Of all the nightmares that plagued me since Rogwallow, this one was the worst, because this one I couldn’t just wake up from.

The tent flap opened again, and the old woman came in, carrying a bucket of water, a wash basin, and some cloth rags. At first I thought she’d come to help me clean myself, but instead she just frowned at me, and sat everything down next to Avaline. She poured some of the water into the basin, dipped a rag in, wrung it out and used it to clean Avaline’s face, ignoring me completely, while Avaline lay quiet on the floor, staring at a goat skull hanging on the wall next to her. Partly out of embarrassment, I turned away and did my best to finish cleaning my face and arms, although by now my will was sorely lacking. After several long, uncomfortable moments of scrubbing, I decided to break the silence.

“I’m Daniel,” I said. She glanced at me then returned to her washing. I didn’t know the customs of pagan Irish, so I wasn’t sure if she wasn’t allowed to talk to me, or if she might just be afraid of me. “You have nothing to fear. I’m no danger.”

“How fortunate for me,” she replied, catching me off guard with her smooth tone.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend.” The woman continued to stay silent. “I don’t know your name.”

“I haven’t told you.” She soaked her rag again then wiped behind Avaline's ears and down to her neck.

“I see. Again, I apologize. I’m only trying to be polite.” I went back to half-heartedly wiping my arms clean.

“That’s how it always starts, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Men of God. Priests. You start by showing up uninvited and being ‘polite’ while preaching stories from your Bible. You come to show us the glory and wisdom of God, but you end with those you call pagan heretics strung up by their neck and your hands clutching everything they once owned.” Her words were casual, yet biting. She spoke as if she’d lived them.

“My lady, I can assure you that I am not here to hurt anyone, or to take anything I didn’t already bring with me.”

“No,” she said. “You’re just here to be polite. That’s why you deign to speak to someone like me. Right before you denounce me for heresy.” The woman was scrubbing Avaline’s face now, but her annoyance with me caused her to push a little too hard, and Avaline winced.

“Are you a heretic?” I asked. I hadn’t intended to be confrontational, but after the terrible morning I’d had, I couldn’t help but needle her back. She turned to me, and the hatred in her eyes caused me to look away. “Sorry. This morning has been a little bit unnatural,” I explained.

“Leave it to a priest to think of pagans as unnatural,” she muttered, and returned to her scrubbing.

“I can see that you’ve not had pleasant dealings with Christians before, but I am not them. I’m not here to cause harm, and I’m certainly not trying steal from you. I only came for her,” I said, motioning to Avaline.

“For her? Why? To claim her as a witch, or a devil, or a whore? Which sin suits your purpose this day?” She shrugged. “What does it matter? Her punishment will be the same either way. You’ll just burn her alive for her wickedness.”

“No,” I said, shocked. “I would never do any such thing. I came here to help. You have to believe me. I just want to understand what she is.”

"What she is, is a woman, who suffers from a sickness that she didn’t ask for nor deserve. What else is there to know?"

A lot, I wanted to say. Avaline wasn’t sick. I'd seen the darkness inside her, same as Ewen. And this woman knew something about it. “Maybe you're right.” I leaned back against the post in defeat. “But I had to try.”

I sat in silence, as did the woman. Avaline’s occasional grunts and hums were the only sounds in the tent, other than a shout from some men outside and the stamping of a few horses. I could feel the woman’s irritable glances in my direction but I ignored them, choosing instead to look at Avaline. I found myself wondering if this would have happened to Ewen had he not escaped.

“I am called Sefrid.”

I looked at the old woman, but she deliberately avoided my gaze, focusing on brushing the tangles out of Avaline’s hair with a wooden comb.

“Sefrid. That’s a beautiful name. Briton or Irish?”

“Briton, of course.” She frowned again, as if I’d asked a silly question.

“Are you with Lorcan? His wife?”

She made a sound that could be either a sarcastic laugh or a pitiable grunt. “No. Not his wife. Lorcan is a dangerous, evil little man, who’s already seen two wives die by his hand. I am not here to be his third.”

“So you’re his servant?”

She smiled. “I suppose he thinks of me as such. Lorcan has much to teach those of us who are willing to learn.”

“You’re a… a sorceress?”

“I am a Druid.” She stared at me defiantly, expecting a rebuke, but she received none.

“A Druid,” I repeated, staring back in astonishment. Now I understood her anger. Druids had suffered for centuries at the hands of first Romans and then Christians. I wondered if that’s where her scars came from, though I didn’t ask. I’d managed to get her to tell me her name, which was no small feat, and I didn’t want to follow that small miracle by bringing up bad memories. “Is that what Lorcan is? Does that mean you can do what he does?”

“He is not one of us,” she nearly spat with contempt, though I didn’t think it was directed at me. “He may have followed the old gods once, but no longer. His magic is different now.” Sefrid pulled the comb through a tangle, causing Avaline to wince again. “And yes, I can do many things, but I am not here to perform for your amusement. I’m only here to see to it that she’s clean.”

“I see. I didn’t mean to pry.” I did. I had a hundred questions for her. I wanted to ask her about Druid magic, if it was real, how she conjured her spells, how many others might be around these lands, but I thought it better to wait and catch her in a more forgiving mood. If she had one.

“Then don’t.” Sefrid dropped the comb in the water bowl along with her rag. She appeared to be finished, and when I looked at Avaline I was suitably impressed. Her hair still had a few tangles but it was straight enough to be presentable, and her skin clean enough to see that her cheeks were rosy from the scrubbing, which stood out severely from her pale face.

“She could have been a beautiful woman,” I said.

“She is a beautiful woman,” Sefrid replied, harshly. She stood and carried the bowl and the bucket to the tent entrance. Before leaving, however, she stopped, pulled out one of the wet rags, and threw it at me. “You’ll need that.” She left before I could thank her.

*****

Avaline fell asleep shortly after Sefrid left, though she didn’t stay that way for long. Some nearby shouting startled her awake, and while she continued to lie on the ground, her eyes stayed open, staring at nothing. After finally cleaning myself of the remnants of Lorcan’s repugnant salve, I watched her for some time, wondering about the mysteries that surrounded her. Who had she been before this happened? I don’t know why I knew this, but I was confident she hadn’t been born this way. Something happened to her. Something made her this way.

She must have been married. I imagined her to be the wife of a tradesman, perhaps a woodworker, with three children. I had no evidence for any of this, but the notion seemed right, and thinking of her living a normal life seemed to make me feel better. But then I thought of the vision I had when I tried to heal her, of the beast in her village, and I wondered if any part of it were true. The beast wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But the destruction was believable. Something or someone destroyed her village, along with her family. And I wished with all my heart that she could tell me about it.

"Avaline?" I said. Her eyes twitched, and she almost looked directly at me before settling her gaze on the wall past my shoulder. "You can hear me, can't you?" Her eyes twitched again, and I took that for a sign that I was at least getting through to her. "Can you shake your head if you understand me?"

Her head didn’t move but her hand snaked out hesitantly along the ground, reaching for me. I took her hand in mine, and then she sighed and her body relaxed.

"What I did to you, it helped, didn't it? Maybe not completely, but it made a difference. I only wish I'd been able to do to you what I did to Ewen. Or what God did through me. At least enough for you to speak to me."

Suddenly, visions flashed before my eyes, dark ones, just like those I'd seen last night, and I jerked my hand away in surprise. I blinked, trying to reorient myself, and I looked at Avaline but she continued to lay on the ground, just as she had before. Had it happened again? Or had I imagined it? I wasn’t sure, at first, but I heard Avaline exhale deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath. She reached for me again, but I didn't take her hand. Instead, I moved away, as far as the rope holding my leg would allow me.

Shortly after, a man walked in, one of the large Irishmen who'd escorted us from the church. He had bright orange hair that would have hung to his thick neck if it wasn't pulled back behind his head in a short ponytail, and his sharp green eyes watched the two of us carefully. He brought in two wooden plates with a meager chunk of bread and some cheese, and set them down on the floor next to us.

"Eat," he said, which I did, gladly. "I am called Boric. I am your keeper. If you need food or water, you tell me. If you need to piss, you tell me. If you need to talk to one of us, you talk to me. If you cause problems or speak out of turn," he looked at me sternly, "I will be forced to show you discipline."

I nodded quietly.

When we finished, Boric walked between us and pulled out a large hunting knife, which he used to cut the ropes holding us to the tent pole.

"You can walk around during daylight," he said, picking up the plates, "but if you try to leave the camp, you die."

"Thank you," I said, but I made no move to stand. Boric left and I immediately wondered if I should test my new freedom by leaving the tent. I thought it might be a trick, though I couldn't see how.

Ewen. I needed to find him, and if I was free to wander the camp, I would. I stood and walked cautiously toward the entrance, peeking through the flap, expecting to be cuffed in the jaw for my brazenness, but nothing happened. Instead, I saw Sefrid sitting on the ground outside, tending to a small fire. I heard a whimper behind me, and I turned back to see Avaline, still lying on the floor, reaching for me.