by Carrie King
Father Matthew could guess what had happened next—Brother Nicholas had been compelled to take the book to the solitude of his room and turn its ancient pages. The evil from that ancient tome had made itself felt —and now this had happened. The inevitable had occurred deep within the sacred walls of the monastery.
“I don’t understand.” Brother John was shaking his head, still disbelieving the events of the day. “Brother Nicholas, though young, is an obedient and devoted follower. Why would he have done such a thing?”
Father Matthew glanced over to where Nicholas sat in stunned and shocked silence. The young man now leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his head hanging down so all they could see was his thick black hair and yet the despondency leaked off him. “He didn’t have a choice.” The old monk turned back to his colleagues. “The Book of Khyra is powerful. No one has the power to resist it.” He sighed again. “We can’t change what has happened, but we do have the opportunity to prevent it happening again.”
Brother John and Brother Eric looked at each other. Brother Eric leaned forward, the circular bald spot on the top of his head gleaming in the candlelight. His voice was low. “Do we kill the boy?”
Father Matthew sat back, shocked. “No, of course not. That will do no good at all. We have already lost the life of a good man today. It is not up to us to take another life.”
Brother John banged his hand down on the rough wood of the table, causing the other men to jump. “This is absurd! How could a book have caused such a thing to happen?”
The elder monk rubbed the slack skin on the side of his face, his hand rasping over the unshaven surface. “The Book of Khyra is centuries old. It holds enchantments and magicks that we can’t even begin to understand. When it came into my care, I was warned to keep it under lock and key at all times. It is a dark and powerful publication. What happened today was not Brother Nicholas’ fault. He was tricked into performing the spell which then released a haunting... it released long banished demons onto this plane... and disaster quickly followed.”
“What do we do now? Do we sit back and watch as each of our brothers are taken and torn apart by these demons?” Brother Eric was frowning, the action causing deep lines to score his face from brow to temple.
“No. As I said to you, what has happened has happened. But we are able to do something to prevent it from happening again. I can’t reverse the spell—that is impossible. But I can reduce the harm.”
“How?” Brother John demanded.
“The demons are attached to Brother Nicholas. They won’t hurt him directly, but they will make the rest of his life rife with misery and suffering. I can’t change that. He uttered the incantation, and it can’t be taken back. If we exile the brother from the monastery, the demons will follow him. We will be safe at that point.” Father Matthew’s statement was solemn and clear giving him no pleasure.
“But where will you send him? The demons are here on this earthly plane now, and Brother Thomas, God rest his soul, has already lost his life in a terrible way. If the demons leave with Brother Nicholas, won’t they attack anyone in his vicinity?” Brother John was determined to get an answer.
“Yes. They will remain with him, and they will purposely seek out the warm blood of any living person who enters his environment. That is why I have decided to place him somewhere where he will not be reached by others. He can live out the rest of his days in solitude and simple living, and I pray for his sake that his remaining time in this world is brief.”
“Will you throw him in the dungeon?” Brother Eric looked as though he was ready to stand up from the table at that instant, drag Brother Nicholas from his chair, and perform the act right now.
“No. I cannot do that to the man. I cannot trap him in a small space with the demons he has summoned. His life will be torture enough as it is.” Father Matthew’s voice was firm.
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Brother John. “If he leaves here, and the demons leave with him, won’t they then be free to travel as far as they wish, to maim and kill innocent people?”
“No. That is not how it works. After the spell is performed, the demons attach themselves to the person who has performed the magick, but they are unable to ever move more than 100 yards from his side. And when Brother Nicholas eventually passes on, their powers will be greatly reduced. The evil will linger in one form or another, but the atrocities will diminish. And, as I told you, the demons will torment Brother Nicholas, but they will not ever harm him directly. This is the safest option for everyone.”
“So, where will you send him?” Both the brothers looked at Father Matthew intently, awaiting his reply.
“To the house at Briar Park.”
Chapter 3
Brother Nicholas followed the elderly monk through the forest, ducking his head to avoid the sharp twigs on the lower boughs of the trees. Brown leaves lay thickly underfoot, and the air was still and cold. The thick canopy overhead prevented sunlight from reaching through to brighten and warm the area through which they walked.
Father Matthew walked briskly ahead, his fast and steady steps belying his age. The monk was chanting continuously, and he had not let up his prayers since they’d left the monastery. He rolled his rosary beads constantly through his hands, and he carried with him a vial of holy water which he sprinkled at intervals on his sandaled feet as he moved through the trees.
Brother Nicholas hurried to catch up with the other men. “Where are you taking me?”
No one had explained anything to Nicholas. The other monks had avoided his eyes when he and Father Matthew had left the gray walls of the monastery, and the senior monk had told Nicholas nothing other than to bundle his few belongings together into a knapsack and follow him.
Nicholas knew something had happened, but he had no clue what it could have been. All he remembered was being woken several hours ago by Father Matthew. The monk had been shaking him roughly. Nicholas had looked down to see himself huddled on the cold stone floor of his room, naked and shivering. He had no memory of how he had gotten there or what he had done but he felt the contempt from some of his brothers and fear from others. What had he done?
Father Matthew crossed himself and continued chanting for several minutes before answering Nicholas’ question. He allowed a few drops of holy water to fall on the leather thongs of his sandals and continued walking, though he had slowed his stride a little. “You must leave the monastery and you can never return. I am taking you to a house where you will live in solitude and prayer for the remainder of your days. I have arranged for Brother John to take a cow, some chickens, and supplies to the property and to stock the pantry. By the time we arrive, he should have already left with his cart. I don’t want him there at the same time as you are at the house. There is fresh water and what remains of a vegetable garden in the grounds. The rest is up to you.”
Nicholas’ head ached. Nothing made sense. He wanted to lie down and sleep. “Who does the house belong to? Why do I have to leave the monastery?”
“The house was bequeathed to the monastery by an elderly widow who had a great fondness for our simple services. The property has not been lived in for several years. You will be kept busy making it livable, but it will be good for you to keep your mind occupied. Pray to the Lord always, and keep his goodness and purity close to you. You may find a small measure of peace. God knows, you are going to need it.” Father Matthew resumed his chanting.
“But why do I have to leave the brothers? I don’t understand.” Nicholas’s headache increased. He felt as though his brain was slamming into the front of his skull in a relentless, hammering rhythm.
Father Matthew sighed heavily and stopped walking. “You opened the Book of Khyra. I don’t blame you, Brother Nicholas; I blame myself. No man could have resisted the sweet enchantment of the book. Its temptations called to you, and you were bidden to answer. Unfortunately, you were compelled to perform the spell contained within the book and, in doing so, you r
eleased two destructive and evil demons, both intent on murder and pain, onto this plane. Now that the demons have been released, there is no going back. They had remained trapped for centuries, imprisoned by powerful magick, but now, God help us... they are free.” Father Matthew raised his rosary beads to his lips and kissed them gently.
Vaguely, Nicholas remembered a heavy book held tightly to his chest as he hurried through the underground corridors of the monastery. His head shrieked in agony and he groaned. Everything else was cloudy and unclear. He couldn’t remember what had happened next; he could remember nothing until Father Matthew had shaken him roughly awake.
“Where are the demons now?” Nicholas looked off through the trees, into the shadows of the forest, and stifled a shiver. He rubbed at his temples. If only this headache would go away, perhaps he could think a little clearer.
Father Matthew continued on ahead and Nicholas had to run to catch him again.
“Where are the demons?” he repeated.
Father Matthew glanced at the young man sorrowfully as they pushed their way through the dense undergrowth. “They are with you, Brother Nicholas. They will not ever leave you, not until the Lord calls you home.” His sadness and despair were palpable.
Nicholas felt cold fingers run up his spine. He looked over his shoulder, but he could see nothing but the trees of the forest and the dark shadows in between. “I can’t see them,” he whispered. “I can see nothing.” Was this all a mistake?
“They will make themselves visible to you when they choose to do so.” Father Matthew placed a heavy hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened to you. But you can still make a life for yourself here in Briar Park.”
He turned and pushed aside a low-hanging branch and, for the first time, Nicholas caught sight of his new home.
The house was a white-wooded and stately looking property, sitting elegantly amidst long neglected grounds. Overgrown lawns spread out in all directions, and as they approached he could see the back of the house. It stood in what once must have been a lovely garden, but now it was overgrown, neglected, and looked sad and dismal.
Roses clawed their way up the side of the house, the bright red of the flowers and the dark green of the leaves offering a spot of brightness against the white painted wood. A cow grazed languidly to one side, its black and white shape reflected in one of the lower windows. Several chickens, accompanied by an arrogantly proud rooster, pecked around the yard. It would have been a pleasant, rustic scene if not for the heavy sense of dread and anxiety which lay across Nicholas’ shoulders like a mantle.
His head throbbed as he followed Father Matthew across the broad expanse of long grass to the front door of the house.
The elderly monk reached the peeling blue-painted front door and cautiously pushed it open. The hinges creaked and small flakes of paint fell to the step.
Nicholas nearly walked into the back of the other man when he stopped suddenly and bent down.
Father Matthew stood up and turned and Nicholas saw something small and alive clasped in his arms.
For the first time since Father Matthew had woken him, the old man allowed a smile to creep across his face. “Look. Brother John has left you a gift.” He pushed his hands forward.
Nicholas looked down at the tiny kitten which Father Matthew thrust into his arms. It was a little scrap of a thing with soft ginger fur and wide green eyes. It looked up at Nicholas and mewed, opening its small mouth to show sharp white teeth and a pale pink tongue. The kitten placed its tiny paws on Nicholas’ arm and began to knead its claws, gently prickling his skin.
Father Matthew looked around hesitantly but did not walk any further into the house. “I must leave you,” he said quickly. “The longer I am with you, the weaker I am becoming so I can’t stay. I must put some distance between us... if I do not, I will be overcome.” He stepped back and stood a couple of feet away from the step. “No one will bother you here. I wish you luck, Brother Nicholas, but you must not leave. You have everything you need here to make a life, just remember to pray and keep your faith.” He turned to walk back the way they had come.
“Wait! Aren’t you going to show me around? What am I supposed to do here? You can’t just leave me like this.”
Father Matthew looked at Nicholas for a long moment before shaking his head sadly. “May God save your soul.” The old man held tightly to his holy water and rosary beads and hurried across the grass back into the forest.
Chapter 4
Nicholas stood and watched Father Matthew until he could see him no more. It didn’t take long. The trees of the forest quickly swallowed up all signs of the old man. Holding the kitten carefully, Nicholas turned and walked into the house, his new home.
His footsteps echoed on the bare wooden floors. The place was dark, dismal and smelt of dust and mildew. A moment of despair came over him at the thought of living here alone... forever.
Shaking it off he knew he had to at least make the place suitable to live and sleep.
Directly in front of him, wide stairs led the way to the upper floor. To one side of the entrance was a large living room and along the corridor were several doors, all of them shut. To the other side of the front door was a short passage leading to what looked like a kitchen.
Nicholas knew that was where he should start and he walked up the passageway and stepped into the dirty and dusty kitchen.
A long bench ran along one side, and he could see that Brother John had placed a pitcher of milk, a loaf of bread, a small parcel of cheese, a jar of honey, and a bottle of vinegar on the countertop. A box of beeswax candles and a lighter were placed beside the food. It was difficult to see clearly as the room was gloomy. Spotting that the windows were grimy, Nicholas stepped forward to rub his finger across one pane. The cleared patch of glass allowed a little extra light to enter the room, and he could see that once the windows were scrubbed and clean the kitchen would be bright and light-filled.
The kitten wiggled and mewed and Nicholas placed the small creature down on the floor, where it immediately began to pat and play with a ball of dust. With a smile on his face Nick opened several cupboards, finding bowls and pans and utensils, all covered with a thick layer of dust. An old wood stove stood against one wall. He leaned back against the bench.
Feeling overcome with the enormity of what happened his legs gave a little. Nothing that had happened today made any sense. He still did not understand why Father Matthew had bought him here, but having spent most of his life at the monastery, he felt bereft without the comfort of that old place and the company of his brothers. However, he was used to doing as he was bid, and he would not dare to question the intentions of the senior monk too closely.
It looked like he would have to make the best of his new life. Tonight he would pray on the matter, but for now, he may as well explore.
Nicholas left the kitchen and walked upstairs, listening to the silence of the house. On the upper level he found the main bedroom, with a large four poster bed covered with a grimy red cover, and two smaller bedrooms, each containing just a narrow bed and nothing else. He dropped his knapsack down onto the bed in the main room and walked back out of the bedroom. A further small set of stairs led up to what he assumed must be the attic.
As he walked, the dust stirred up by his feet made his nose tickle, and he sneezed suddenly, the sound echoing through the rooms seemed to emphasize his isolation.
Still struggling to make sense of what had happened, he turned around and whispered a prayer. Stopping, he closed his eyes and waited for some message, some answer... nothing came. It felt so unfair. Just this morning he had joined the other brothers in prayers, and then shared a simple breakfast of cheese and bread with them. Now he was here, outcast and alone, and supposedly haunted by demons. Something dropped to the floor in the kitchen, the sound clattering through the still air. He smiled. The kitten.
Nicholas hurried downstairs and walked back into the kitchen. There was no si
gn of the little creature, but a knife lay on its side in the grime of the tiled floor. He walked over and picked it up, placing it on the bench. “Puss?” he called out, his voice loud in the silence. He walked through the lower rooms of the house looking for the kitten, but he couldn’t find it.
Returning to the kitchen, Nicholas found a bucket and some cloths. He opened the back door and, carrying the bucket, he walked out into the overgrown garden to find a water pump. He noticed several logs of wood stacked beside the door, under cover of the wide porch area, he would need those for hot water. Behind the pile he noticed tools, a hoe, spade, an ax, and a few other bits that would allow him to till the ground and be self-sufficient. The little pile filled him with a sense of desolation.
Shaking it off, Nicholas went into the garden and located the pump under a tangle of weeds, its mechanism rusty and difficult to move. After some time, he managed to work the pump and he filled the bucket close to the brim.
The chickens clucked around, scratching at the ground as he surveyed the area around the house. They made him feel a little less alone and would provide him with eggs and meat. As the cocky rooster strutted and tutted at its clutch of females he felt a smile tug at his mouth.
Walking back he surveyed as much as he could. A pumpkin vine had run rampant through the garden, and Nicholas could see large round orange globes peeking through the leaves. At least he would have pumpkin to eat.
In another corner spinach grew in abundance, and he could see the remains of tomato and bean vines. He was sure to be able to grow more plants from the seeds. From where he stood, it appeared as though several potato plants also grew throughout the garden, but it would take the removal of the weeds to be able to clearly see which vegetables he had at his disposal. He glanced up at the gathering clouds.
Then there was the cow who was tethered to the law with a bucket of water. Tomorrow he would fence an area for her but for today she would be fine.
