Chapter 52 | Cullard
Cullard
I push the whelps along, leading them by the shoulders, holding their small, quaint, warm hands in my palms.
“Come now, children,” I mutter as calmly as I can muster. “The unholy monsters are after us. We must be quick!”
Now with Valenthia Yurlyth a pile of dust in the Faith Ward, these younglings are my only salvation. My only leverage to live past this evening.
I am not ready to meet the glorious Truehearts in the heavens yet. I still have so much good to do in this world. So much good!
I lightly squeeze one of the children’s hands, smiling down at them demurely as they look up at me with huge, frightened eyes. Yes, so much to do . . .
Shaking my head of the intrusive thoughts, I guide our small company through the high grass of the countryside, toward a tall copse of trees in the distance that sits like a holy beacon for our protection.
Yes, there we are. The woods! We can hide in the woods.
The sounds of battle and death drown away behind us. We leave Olhav in our wake, that damnable, infernal place. It truly is the afterworld come alive there, and perhaps I shouldn’t be so distraught that Valenthia is gone.
A peaceful night takes over, if not a bit chilly. The younglings are shivering—all four of them—and they huddle for warmth as we skitter across the mountaintop.
“Come on, little ones, we’re stopping just up ahead. No time to dally, no time to hug!” I push them further.
I must be pliable for these younglings. Understanding. I can do that. I did it for years as abbot of the House of the True.
Yes, I certainly can be amenable and kind. All they need do is look at my face, see my kind, fatherly smile, and I’ll have them transfixed.
Transfixed like I did at the House of the True. In my personal chamber. Alone with the younglings, where I can see after them best.
A rush of innocent faces blurs through my mind—so many in rapid succession I can’t keep track of them or voice their individual names.
My years as abbot and Father brought many trusting younglings to my quarters.
The faces of those who came to me for aid, in which I fought against my sinful ways and lost. Tests of my strength, sanctity, and vows, ordained to me by the spirits of the True.
Those firm, young bodies, so easily molded by my hands—
I clear my throat, adjusting my robes as we run.
The prairie dips into a bowl before rising to meet the edge of the tree line.
“What are we fleeing from, Father?” one of the children asks.
I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m an archpriest, the most powerful bishop in the land after the untimely death of my predecessor, or the part I played in said bishop’s death. He wouldn’t understand the awesome power I possess. The power that allows me to lay claim to people like him.
“Devils!” I screech. “Death and carnage and vampires in the night, little one.”
We reach the woods. I finally let my body exhale, only for a minute. The branches and vines seem to claw at me, ripping my robes and flesh, breaking my skin. Though I can’t feel them anywhere, I can sense the proximity of the vampires. “We can’t stop . . .” I say. “Can’t stop moving.”
I know if I head far enough east, I can get us off this blasted mountain. There, I can find a harbor. A boat, perhaps, where I can barter with the younglings’ lives to seek passage elsewhere, and rid myself of this twisted, horrid region forever.
The children are my flock, Truehearts without even knowing it, yet they are also a means to an end. A means for me to seek my salvation and further my holy cause.
In the thickness of the forest, we’re eventually forced to stop. The sun is beginning to rise. We’ve fled for hours, the children are complaining of aching legs and bones, and my thighs are beginning to cramp.
I find a small cave for us to rest in. “Only for a few hours. Nothing more,” I tell the children as they huddle around me.
My throat is parched. My stomach grumbles. I would love to be a skilled tracker in this moment, to hunt us game to eat and fill our bellies with sustenance. Maybe I will forage when I wake . . .
But the early morning is beginning to drain me.
I open my eyes with a start, gasping.
Mice are crawling over me, and I shriek, sitting up from the wall where I’ve dozed off.
My shrill voice wakes the children as I squirm, ripping my clothes, tearing my holy vestiture to get the squeaking rodents off my body. The children yell, so I yell at them, “Q-Quiet! Keep your voices down!” though I’ve been the loudest by far.
My humiliation is absolute.
As we travel on, stomachs grumbling and younglings whining, I feel something stalking us. It sounds large, like a wolf perhaps.
Yes, a wolf sent by the vampires to track us down. That’s all it is, and I know the wolf will be hesitant to attack without its pack, in broad daylight.
As we reach the far eastern edge of the woods hours later, the sun is high in the sky. It’s been many hours since we fled Olhav, and vampires can’t exist in the daylight.
I feel safer.
Then a loud cawing sound breaks my concentration and I snap my gaze up—
Just in time for a black bird to swoop down and peck me in the forehead.
I cry out, wailing, flailing, and run away. I don’t bother to see if the children are following—I know they will. They always do. They’re so malleable, so easy to conquer.
Something like a flock of birds follows us out of the forest, and I begin to think I’m cursed. First it was the mice, then the wolves, now the birds. The gods-damned countryside is coming alive to thwart our escape.
Another test by the True. That is all it is. Surely.
Ahead, a fine building sits in the sunlight, gleaming like a ghastly light tower. Its white walls reflect the sun. It rises many stories high, a towering beacon calling to me.
I smile. Salvation at last!
The word sticks in my mind. That’s all this can be, surely—a reward for braving the challenges the Truehearts have thrust at me over the past day and a half.
Our group stumbles onto the manor’s property. It seems abandoned. Quiet. The hedges have gone awry, overgrown and twisting like spider legs across a cobblestone courtyard. A statue in the center of the courtyard of a urinating angel is no longer urinating, long since gone to ruin.
This place feels like it hasn’t been inhabited in months.
Perfect for us to hide away and bide time until we’re safe, I think. I need a plan, and having four walls surrounding us will present the perfect opportunity to build one.
Rushing through the courtyard, past the overwrought foyer, we come to the front entrance, gaining a set of stairs. The children stumble along behind me, all of them weary and exhausted from lack of proper sleep and nutrition.
At least here we can forage. Surely there are edible plants we can eat surrounding the manor in the vast countryside that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction. This place will provide me privacy, too, where I can flagellate and purify myself while the whelps become reliant on me.
I knock loudly on the door. “Hello?! Is anyone in here?” My voice is raspy and thick from disuse.
I try the door, pushing violently, but it doesn’t budge. Someone has locked it.
My shoulders sink. My hope dwindles, and I wonder if this is another test from the True. It must be.
Just as I turn around to mope down the staircase, gripping the hands of the children closest to me, I hear a shlick—a sliding lock.
My heart soars to my throat. Thank the True! I never doubted you, spirits!
The door creaks open. The face on the other side startles me because it is pale like a vampire’s .
. . and yet kind. Not fully degraded in that unholy way all vampires share.
A half-blood, I suppose. Bald-headed, with a smile across his face.
He looks quite young himself, not more than twenty-five summers under his belt.
Strong, wiry, and fit. A handsome man with a kind smile and a bald head.
“Please, my lord,” I beg, rushing forward, folding my palms together. “My children and I pray for your support. We are lost, famished, and exhausted.”
The man’s elegant brow furrows. “You are a priest of Nuhav? A Trueheart?”
I know my future relies on my answer. Yet I cannot lie. My robes speak for me, my oaths bind me. “I am. Archpriest of the diocese of Nuhav.” I speak more firmly now, wondering if I’ve answered correctly, and if my words will tilt him one way or the other.
He widens the door, stepping out of the way and into the ostentatious mansion.
“Quite good, Father. I myself lived in Nuhav for many, many years. Don’t let the pale skin deter you.
” He keeps a handsome smile plastered on his face, gesturing into the foyer with an inviting sweep of his hand.
“Please come in. Welcome to Manor Marquin.”