Chapter 32
During Saer’s years with Neyu, Kalia drifted in and out of their lives, sometimes turning the duo into a trio.
Hunting for her, and the time it ended up taking, turned into a challenge Saer hadn’t anticipated.
Though what did an immortal, revenge-fueled demon have but time?
His exploration spread twofold—he never wasted an opportunity to look for Errshek as well as Kalia.
Of all the Daemoenica, Kalia harvested with the least bravado and as little effort as possible.
Sloth wouldn’t seek to elevate her status.
Assuming the role of a noble might appeal at first glance, until she realized all the work which went into such a title.
Saer also ruled out extremes in temperature and setting.
Too hot, too cold, too remote—none would appeal to the least motivated of Lucifer’s children.
It left him with fewer, but still vast options.
The subtlety made her almost impossible to find.
Almost.
Traveling by ship only to jump from one continent or island to the next, Saer spent months, and eventually years traversing hundreds upon thousands of manmade roads, stopping by villages and cities to make inquiries.
On the day he landed upon a stroke of luck, he’d ended up as far north as he suspected Kalia might go, considering the usual chill in the air.
However, fires tended to be lit aplenty in the settlements he passed through, and the temperatures stayed otherwise mild and consistent.
The warmer months still displayed rain every three to four days, turning the land lush, green, and beautiful. While the sky was overcast and gray, the rivers twisting through the land shone pristine and smooth as glass.
Saer secured another horse he hadn’t bothered to name. With a dark hooded cloak made of wool to shield his face from the rain, he rode down a muddy trail. The road in question connected the town from which he departed to his destination.
After interrogating the townsfolk, he hesitated to feel any inkling of hope. Yet, the more he inquired, the greater his certainty.
Those who ended at his target location tended to stay.
Furthermore, family members who went there with goals and aspirations were said to have fallen into a pattern of uselessness and indifference, often in sharp contrast to their prior nature.
The location stretched at a snail’s pace into desolation, with upkeep only maintained by necessity.
Yet, more and more bodies drew to this terminus upon hearing the rumors—a girl who spoke with angels resided there. For many, it was the chance of a lifetime to witness such a miracle, if true.
The clouds broke as Saer drew nearer, and he lifted his head to draw the hood back.
The sun glistened over the blackened depths of a silken river. He rode parallel to the water, struck once more by how verdant the surrounding foliage grew. Rolling, bosky hills of luscious trees extended up and beyond that which he sought.
Astride the river, a great manmade structure stretched wide.
To one end furthest from the waterway, a behemoth tower rose high into the air, topped with shallow crenellations.
Breathtaking arched windows and doorways boasted all along the construction’s base.
Disorganized but beautiful sheets of ivy decorated the tops of the ashen and clay-hued stones.
Even from far away, the architecture could be described as nothing short of stunning.
Why Kalia had chosen to take up residence within a human-constructed series of buildings dedicated to the Grandfather, Saer itched to discover.
He tapped his heels into the mare’s flanks, spurring her towards the abbey.
Saer steered his tawny mare off the road and into the trees flanking the pathway as he drew closer and sensed, with certainty, the heat signature of one of the Daemoenica.
Once within easy walking distance but still not in sight of any who might keep watch at the structure’s main entrance, he dismounted and rummaged through the various packs he’d saddled the horse with. A grotesque stench emanated from within, enough to make Saer twist his face in disgust.
The mare craned her neck around towards her rider and grunted.
“Oh, it is that bad. I assure you.”
The horse snorted and bowed her head, content with nibbling at the greenery.
Saer fished out a long, tattered and threadbare cloak. The bottom frayed edges were caked with mud and manure, the rest of the garment scattered with holes and speckles of black mold. He stared at it, stalling.
The horse nickered off to the side, a sound like a laugh, and received an unamused growl in response. Before he had more chance to regret the decision, he swirled the fetid cloak around his shoulders, then pulled the hood over his head.
Saer tied a length of rope to the mare’s reins so she had enough leeway to drink from the edge of the river and continue to graze.
The opposite end, he bound to a tree branch in a loose knot.
He put out a shallow hemp sack of oats, then touched the side of the horse’s soft nose.
“Should you be clever enough to get free, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay until I returned.
” In response, the equine nuzzled against the inviting heat of the Saer’s hand, and he couldn’t help the half-smile which graced his lips as he answered an imagined, silent question. “Hopefully not long.”
Offering the mare one last neck pat, he took his leave from the trees and back to the pathway, walking with a forced, hunched limp.
“Sickly visitor to the front!”
“Fetch Abbot Maurice!”
“Draw a bath, inform the medic!”
“Good sir? Can you hear me? Where did you…oh, Heavens, that smell—”
Having feigned a collapse at one of the entry points to the abbey, Saer’s face remained covered by the hood, the cloak shielding his body.
A young gentleman in a modest brown robe had approached him and touched his arm, then sounded the alarm to the feverish temperature of his flesh—while swallowing back a gag.
Saer cleared a faked, worn throat, his voice a whisper. “The angel speaker …”
The hubbub around him quieted and slowed. One spoke above the rest. “Why do you seek her?”
“Need to see…”
Saer chose that moment to slump completely, as dramatic as one might imagine Pride could be.
“A few more hands to the front, please!”
“The litter is coming, let them through—”
“Roll him up to his side…Arms.” Another choked-back gagging sound. “Legs...Back down...There we go.”
Loaded onto a pallet of sorts, the men heaved and lifted Saer.
“Goodness, he’s...heavy.”
He almost broke right then, tempted to snap at the lot of them. But that wouldn’t get him where he needed to go. Not with ease at any rate.
Saer kept his eyes closed, his body carried while his bearers muttered amongst themselves. All male voices.
“Everyone coming to talk to her, we’re going to have to start turning them away eventually.”
“If they’re all willing to wait to see her …”
“The way this one stinks, we should push him to the front.”
“Do you think he’s almost passed?”
“Did you feel his skin? He’s burning up. The scent of death is…” The observation punctuated itself with a hard swallow.
Saer just kept the bitter smirk off his face.
There rose a scraping sound, wood against rock, creaking of old metal as doors opened and shut. Once under the brisk shade of the dense gray stones, the temperature dropped considerably, a minuscule but steady siphoning of his energy.
The crew of men huffed and puffed as they marched through the structure. None seemed on the better end of physical health. Hellsfire, would they drop him? He hadn’t anticipated—
The shuffling of feet paused, followed by a gentle but echoing knock. “Miss?”
“I’m not to be disturbed while praying!” a feminine voice answered from behind the door, muffled by the thick wood planks between her and the entourage carrying Saer.
“Yes, of course, Miss but—”
“Brother Thomas.”
The one who must have been Brother Thomas cleared his throat, pausing his protests. “Yes, Miss?”
“You know I can’t be bothered amidst my personal communion.”
“Miss Kalia, I know—”
“Unless the building and its inhabitants are in grave peril.”
“Yes, we’ve certainly discussed this and—”
“Or the next ice age is rampantly approaching.”
“I haven’t forgotten Miss, it’s just—”
“Or someone is in the act of dying whom I have not seen.”
“Yes, Miss Kalia, that’s exactly what is happening right now!”
“Oh.” The voice on the other end of the door fell silent.
A long pause extended as Brother Thomas panted.
“Are you sure they’re not going to die tomorrow?”
“Miss Kalia please!” Brother Thomas didn’t seem the type of human to raise his voice, though it elevated with desperation.
Even through the door, a loud sigh could be heard. The group of monks held their collective breaths.
“Very well. Enter and put the poor sod on the floor.”
As one, the men holding Saer aloft groaned with appreciation and a few mutters. “Thank the heavens.” “Couldn’t possibly have hauled him back to the infirmary.” “The stench.” “Shhh!”
A door creaked. The group shambled ahead and through the entryway.
Eyes still shut with the worn hood covering everything but his chin, Saer denied his own sight.
No amount of sensory deprivation, however, could stop him or the monks from the heavy gust of balmy air as it billowed from the room they entered.
The familiar crackling of a substantial fire tickled his ears.
“Just there, by the mantle. That’d be fine.” Kalia’s familiar and throaty voice was much clearer, and though the words came as a command, her tone indicated she didn’t have much inclination to care whether they followed her order or not.
Despite Kalia’s lack of enthusiasm, the monks hobbled with Saer over to the fireplace and set him in front of the blaze.
Whether on purpose or not, they dropped him the last few inches onto the unyielding calefactory floor.
He just kept his curse to himself, only a sharp breath escaping through clenched teeth.
The relieved moans of the gentlemen who had just discharged the burden of a literal demon from their backs covered any sound Saer made. He lay as still as the near-dead.
Kalia was either doing a stellar job of playing none-the-wiser, or she still hadn’t figured out the monks hauled her kin in before her.
One by one, each murmured a quiet, “Thank you, Miss Kalia,” on their way out.
The door shut.
They were alone.