Sanctuary (Dominion) (29 page)

"How?"

Sefrid shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She seemed calm this morning when he walked her outside. I was surprised you weren’t with her."

My heart fell, and I had to sit down to keep from falling. This was my death sentence. My only protection in this camp was my ability to keep her calm. Lorcan told me my life depended on that one simple provision. Now he could torture or kill me as he liked. But with death finally upon me, I realized with a calm indifference that I wasn’t scared. Though, I couldn’t decide if that was because I really did want to die, or if I just expected God to snatch me from its clutches once again.

“Was she okay? Was she hurt?”

“Not that I could tell." Sefrid looked at me curiously. "Should she have been?”

“No. Of course not.” I stared at the ground for a long time, so Sefrid returned to her work. After a while, though, I couldn’t bear the silence. “I failed her yesterday.”

Sefrid raised an eyebrow at me. “How?”

I gave a curt laugh, but there was no joy in it. “By being myself.”

"I heard him, when he shouted at you."

I nodded absently. “Do you know what he did next?”

Sefrid’s eyes widened for a moment, and her lips tightened. Then she forced a calm expression back to her face and looked at her pots. “Let’s not talk of last night, Daniel.”

“Why not?” I shook my head in disgust. “This is all happening because of me. It’s my fault Ewen came back. It’s my fault Avaline is here. It’s my fault Lorcan did what he did last night. I failed her,” my voice fell to a whisper, “and so many others." I looked at the sky, and for some reason I only just now decided that it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “I’m going to die for this.”

“You’re a fool.”

I blinked in surprise, and looked at Sefrid, who puckered her mouth in disgust. “What?”

“You’re just like all the other Christians. You think you’re at the center of the world no matter where you go. You think your precious God weaves the events of the world around you as you flit this way and that, like a hummingbird.” She shook her head in disappointment. “You think far too much of yourself.”

“How can you say that? I talked Ewen into coming back here. I’m the reason he’s trapped in that dungeon.”

“Lorcan is the reason your friend is in that dungeon.”

It's not that simple, I wanted to say. It’s never that simple. But the argument faded as I remembered that horrifying place.

“The dungeon,” I said, “what did I see in there?”

“I told you that you would see what your God has wrought.”

“No. There was nothing of God in there.”

“Your God created the world, did He not? He created good and evil?”

“God created the world,” I explained, “but man created evil.”

“Interesting notion,” she said. She put away her rags and looked at me, cautiously. “What you saw was the evil from one man being put into another. That is what Avaline does. Her touch allows her to take and hold the worst parts of a person’s soul within her own, and then pass it on to someone else. Lorcan has been using her to create an army for Cullach. He looks for the largest, strongest men he can find, and then puts in them the touch of madness, over and over again until they’re insane. And then, he will release them upon the world. An army of relentless savages who will destroy everything in their path. That is the breadth of Lorcan’s simple, yet terrible plan.”

My mouth opened but it took several horrifying heartbeats to form any words.

“Why would he do that?”

Sefrid shook her head sadly.

“I don’t know. Cullach and Ruark gain very little from this, at least from what I can see. But, I’m sure Lorcan has some motive for doing what he’s doing. Who can make sense of his twisted little mind?”

My shoulders sagged.

“I think I know. Lorcan has in him the mark of a demon. I’ve seen it before, and I’ve seen a man who can stop it. I’d hoped he might be here, but he’s not. I haven’t seen him anywhere I expected to.”

“Who is this man?”

“He calls himself Arkael. But to be honest with you, I’m not even sure he’s a man. He might just be a dream. A reckless dream born of a fool.”

“There shall be a miserable desolation of the kingdom,” Sefrid said, as if reciting the words, “and the threshing floors shall become again forests.”

“What does that mean?”

Her lips curved in a faint smile. “A prophecy of my people. It means we should all be wary of the storm to come. Things are about to become... unpleasant.”

“We have a simpler saying that means the same thing,” I frowned. “Dark days are coming.”

A raider approached us. He watched me with a sneer on his face.

"You, priest. You're to see Cullach. Now."

I just stared at him blankly at first, then nodded solemnly. This was it. My death march. Lorcan didn’t need me, and Cullach didn’t trust me, so there was no reason to keep me alive. What did it matter, though? I’d thoroughly failed everyone I’d ever known or cared about. My life was nothing more than a curse and a burden on those around me. I deserved to die. It would be so much easier that way.

I slumped my shoulders and took another look at the sky. Sefrid prodded me, probably worried about keeping the Irishman waiting. I smiled at her, grateful for her company these last few days, and I hoped that if today would be my last day on this world, I at least wanted her to think better of me than she had when we first met. She looked at me curiously as I stood and left, following the man across the camp.

We arrived at Cullach’s tent, where I was told to wait outside. The raider stepped through the flaps, and when he walked back out he was followed by other men, both of whom were heavily regaled in gold and silver, almost as much as Cullach. I suspected they were his lieutenants, and though they watched me curiously upon leaving, I didn’t pay much attention to them.

The Irishman led me inside, where Cullach sat on a rickety wooden chair that seemed out of place among the finer treasures he had on display. Stacks of furs, a leather saddle and harness, various weapons, and a stand for his chain armor surrounded him, along with several chests and sacks, though most seemed to be empty. His wealth, while impressive, also seemed subdued, though that didn’t keep me from wondering if my head might soon be part of his collection.

“Back from the fort?” he asked. I nodded, and he frowned in thought. He eventually motioned for me to sit on a small, woven wool rug near the fire, which I did. Cullach watched me the entire time, as if calculating my weight or perhaps my value as a slave, all while sipping what I guessed to be ale from a gilded, tin cup. Finally, he set the cup down on the ground and leaned back in his chair. "I was Christian once," he began, casting a curious glance at me to gauge my reaction. But I had none. "I was raised as such back home, in Ireland. I believed in God, and in Jesus Christ, and the Virgin Mary. The apostles. Satan. All of that. I was the son of a chieftain, and my mother made damn sure I had a priest following me around every day, reciting passages from the Bible, all of which I ignored, of course. This priest, though, his name was Fergus. When you showed up here I was reminded of him.”

I stared ahead dutifully. I didn’t intend to be rude, I just had very little desire to grovel for my life, a life that was slowly losing its value to me because of the pain and heartache involved.

"You're quiet this morning. I take it Lorcan hasn’t been a respectable host?"

I glared at him without realizing it, and he shook his head.

"He found me, about three years ago. I had a small band of men at my back in those days. Nothing like what you see now. But Lorcan, he had magic. Real magic, not the stuffy proverbs of a priest. With him, I made a name for myself, and with him, I will have my revenge on the King of Gwynedd. And then, when it’s all done, I will make myself a home in this land, before the Danes gobble it all up.”

I didn’t care about his story, and I wondered why he would even bother to tell me. Cullach must have seen the confusion on my face.

“You don’t agree?”

“No, sire. I only wonder why I’ve been summoned here.”

"Indeed.” Cullach leaned forward, his expression grim. “You saw what Lorcan is doing. You saw the magic he has, and what the woman can do. Are you now so eager to claim you came here to save her?”

“I think,” the words left my lips slowly, and then trailed off. How could I possibly summarize what the last few weeks of my life had turned into? I wanted to tell him that I came here intending to do the right thing, but I’d only ended up hurting everyone instead. But hurt wasn’t even the right word. There was no word for the misery I’d inflicted.

“Speak up! Priests don't just wander onto this island. You say you came for the woman? Why? Why her? And why now?"

"I saw the hand of God," I whispered, no longer concerned about what anyone would think of my story. "I was in a village in Wessex. We were attacked by raiders, not unlike yourself, who slaughtered most of the village. A man showed up and he drove them away. All by himself. I've never seen anything like it in my life. He carried a shining blade, a magnificent weapon, and his hands moved so fast my eyes couldn't follow. He killed some of them, sent the rest running off, and saved the village. At least, what was left of it."

Memories of Rogwallow filled my mind, and I clutched at them dearly, wondering how much longer I would have the chance to do so. Tears came to my eyes, full of sorrow, and regret, but I didn’t wipe them away.

"And?" Cullach interrupted. "What about the woman?"

"This man, his name was Arkael. He disappeared, but before he did he mentioned a demon. The same demon that infects the men Lorcan is holding in that dungeon.” I looked at Cullach to see if I’d surprised him, but his expression never changed. “I heard about her from one of the men who escaped from that place, and," I shrugged, "I couldn't help myself. I had to come out here and see if she was real. I needed to know if any of it was real."

I saw again the dark world from my dream, where the demon taunted me.

“And it is all horrifyingly real.”

Cullach said nothing in response, though I barely noticed him. I stared ahead, seeing only what was in my mind - treasured memories, of which there were embarrassingly few. I would die in moments, and I had done nothing worthwhile with my life. Some small urge deep inside me wanted to fight to protect my life, and my future. It pushed me to say or do anything to prevent what was about to happen. But I didn't act on it. It was only a small urge. The rest of me was tired of this tortured life, of this barbaric, treacherous world. At that moment, most of me had already decided that it just wasn't worth it anymore.

"Interesting," Cullach said. I looked up, expecting to see a grim-faced warrior about to put an end to my suffering. Instead, his head was cocked to the side, as if mulling some new thought. "You're trying to find your faith."

I stared back at him, shocked, not because he’d ignored my warning, but because he was right. This entire journey had been about chasing after the hint of validation, some kind of gesture that proved my life in the church was no mistake. I’d been searching for that moment of rapture that so many others claimed to have experienced but that always eluded me. How did Cullach know this?

“Perhaps,” I said. That was the only admission I would allow.

Cullach leaned back in his chair. “Tell me then, as a priest, what would God think of Lorcan’s deeds in that place? What would Lorcan’s judgment be before God?”

I looked at him as if he’d asked me the most ridiculous question imaginable. “Lorcan would be damned for all eternity. As would those who help him.”

Cullach frowned, and it was at that moment that I realized something very important. Cullach hadn’t brought me here to kill me, or to question me about Avaline. He wanted me here because he was searching for his own spiritual purpose. He too had lost his faith, and was trying to find it amongst the bones of his crazed, demon-touched sorcerer.

He was on the same path as I.

“You can’t let this happen,” I pleaded. “You can’t let Lorcan create this army for you. No good can come of it.”

“It’s my army. I need it to win.”

“No, you don’t. What he’s giving you is not what you’ve asked for.”

“Says the priest.” Cullach sighed, then stood and held out his sword, admiring it. “It seems that Lorcan and his doings over in that dungeon are good for your business. You might even find converts among my men.”

My mouth opened, dumbfounded. “Sire, that is not why I’m here.”

“No, you’re here to save the woman, and stop Lorcan, aren’t you? Warn me of my own sorcerer?”

“I don’t know who Lorcan once was,” I said, “but I know this – he’s not the same man he used to be. He’s being driven by madness put in him by a terrible demon. Sire, please–”

He pointed his sword at me, nudging it against my neck, and I froze. I’d been wrong. I was here to die. He’d only used my last moments to assuage his own guilt.

"If I chose to kill you right now,” he asked, “would God save you?"

I exhaled. After all this time, after all the fear and the worry and the fretting, here I sat, with another blade to my throat, my life moments from the end - and I felt nothing. Nothing save for the realization that I wasn’t alone. I could die in peace, knowing that Cullach could somehow be redeemed, and stop all of this. My only hope, was that in death, I could make him see the veil of deceit that Lorcan had pulled over his eyes.