by Rick Shelley
Brother Paul hurried toward the door when Silvas and the others arrived. The look of apprehension on the friar's face was almost out of control. Paul was nervous, edgy, and even his voice was a register too high.
"Armor!" was the first word the vicar spoke. "A mace! I have no knowledge of such things. I cannot use this weapon."
"Then pray that you will not have to," Silvas said, looking beyond Brother Paul to the bishop. Egbert was following, not moving nearly as fast as the vicar.
"Pray that none of us will," Bishop Egbert said, putting his hands on the friar's shoulders. "But since they come from our Unseen Lord, we must be prepared to use what He has given us."
"Our Council was interrupted," Silvas said, hoping to hurry past the vicar's nervousness while the group still had time to talk in private. "Obviously the battle we saw, the storm of demons riding, all of that was not actually happening. It may have been prophecy. It may have been warning. I don't know."
"The battle is coming," Bay said. It was the first time he had ever spoken in the presence of outsiders-saving only the Council of the night just ending, and the effect of this was much stronger. It was enough to make the vicar stop trembling.
"That was not a dream," Brother Paul said, moving a step closer to Bay. "You really do speak."
"A talent that I trust will not be bruited about," Bay said. "It would shake the faith of many to hear a cleric talk of a horse that could speak."
Bishop Egbert chuckled. "Have no fear, Bay. Your secret will not escape us."
"The Council," Silvas said. The others turned their attention to him.
"I don't know what happened to the rest of you. Everything went black around me and I found myself alone. Then I saw our Unseen Lord face to face, more clearly than I see any of you at this moment. He laid His hands over my eyes and allowed knowledge to pour into me." There was no time to share one part in a thousand of that knowledge, and Silvas did not try. "If we fail in our task, if our Unseen Lord is defeated on this battlefield, Armageddon may indeed be upon us."
"I feel the armies gathering," Bay said. "The legions of the Blue Rose are coming. They will never surrender. They must be destroyed as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. There is no room for mercy, no chance of offering them any chance to recant. And they will offer us no alternative. They have come to destroy, not to convert." He stared directly at the vicar for a moment. "You, Brother Paul, must be prepared to use the weapon that the Unseen Lord has given you. There is no margin for any of us to fall short in our duty."
"Even if our Unseen Lord prevails, I tremble for this village and this valley," Bosc said. "The earth cries out in great agony. It waits to welcome the bones of many people before this day is out. It waits… for something more, for something of great pain." Bosc shook his head. "I still know not what it means. The earth's blood flows and mixes with the blood of men."
"We have little time," Silvas said. "The people of Mecq will be coming for Mass within minutes. I hear movement at hand. Your Excellency, Brother Paul, this next part is yours. The rest of us will be here with you."
Carillia put her hand on Silvas's arm. When he turned to her, she simply looked into his eyes for a moment. The wizard felt the frightening depths of sorrow in her gaze, but he still wasn't prepared for the words she finally spoke.
"My brother gods and I are come to the final battle of this world, or so we believe."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The shock that Silvas felt prevented any open reaction to Carillia's words. He did not doubt what she said, and he certainly could not miss the clear meaning. She was one of the twenty-sister to the Unseen Lord and the others. Silvas bit at his lower lip. He felt pain as well as wonder. You have concealed so much from me for so long?
Silvas and Carillia stared at each other for an instant that seemed all out of proportion to its duration. For that moment they might have been alone in the universe, but no words came to either's lips. There was no time for full discussion, and anything less was better left unsaid. For the moment. The others had no chance at all to show any reaction to Carillia's announcement. The first villagers were coming into the church. There was a little light showing outside. The sun had not quite topped the horizon, but it was near. The peasants knelt and crossed themselves, then moved forward into St. Katrinka's. There were no pews. Worshippers stood or knelt as the service required. They did not sit.
Master Ian was one of the first to arrive. Brother Paul hurried to greet him. "May I beg a favor?" he asked.
"Of course, Vicar," Master Ian replied.
"Would you send your lads around the village to make sure that everyone comes to Mass? Just have the lads tell any folks who aren't already on their way that it's most urgent. Most urgent," Brother Paul repeated.
"Aye, Vicar, I'll do it." The innkeeper turned and left.
At the far end of the church, Bishop Egbert whispered, "It is time for my brothers to join me." He closed his eyes and raised his hands to his temples for a short incantation.
"It might be best if we could get word for the folks up in the castle to stay where they are," Silvas said when the bishop opened his eyes again. "We may have little enough time later."
"I'll have one of my brothers go up there to tell them to wait, that I will be up as soon as possible to help them and give absolution and blessing before the battle," Egbert said. He started to close his eyes again.
"A moment," Silvas said. "Have him go to the mews for a horse. The grooms will have one waiting. And I will be going to the castle with you, with all my companions. Sir Eustace's castle would seem to be the focal point of the coming fight."
"I'll tell them that we are coming," the bishop said, and both men spoke their silent spells.
Carillia had turned away from them. She took a step toward the altar and stared at the large wooden crucifix that hung there, and at the crudely painted scenes of Golgotha that surrounded it. So softly that no one else could hear, she whispered, "How little of this I have ever really understood." There were tears at the corners of her eyes. After a moment she turned just enough to let her look at Silvas again. He was busy with his chants, facing away from her.
"This moment had to come, my heart," she whispered, so softly that no one could possibly hear. "Whatever happens today, what we had before is lost. My escape is over." She turned back to the altar.
Her tears came again.
– |"Father, may I have a word?"
Brother Paul had remained near the front entrance to greet his parishioners as they entered. Busying himself with the amenities was less troubling than standing apart and thinking over Carillia's revelation. The vicar was disturbed both by what she had said and by the speed with which he had accepted her words as Truth.
"Certainly, my son," the vicar said. "Come, let's move over to the side." He led the villager off to the corner. "What troubles you?" As if there weren't enough to trouble any righteous soul, he added to himself.
"I saw somethin' in the night." The farmer looked down, turning his head first to one side and then the other, hesitant about meeting the vicar's gaze. "I cain't be shore what it were, Father."
"A dream?" Brother Paul prompted.
"No, it warn't no dream. I woke in the night, like-heard somethin', I did. After that storm t'other night, I don' sleep so good."
"What did you see?" Brother Paul asked, anxious to hurry him along.
"Dunno. I thinks I saw the Virgin Mary like, standin' in the doorway, hands stretched out like in blessing. It were very plain, Father. I saw her clear as anythin'." He shook his head. "I were frighted, e'en after she told me not to be."
"Go on. What did she look like?" A miracle, here in my parish? he wondered. Or just a troubled soul taking a bit of comfort in a dream? With all that had happened, and seemed about to happen, Brother Paul knew that he shouldn't be surprised at anything, even this.
"She looked young, she did, and most beauteous, draped all in a flowin' robe. Her hair was long, stretchin' all the way d
own to here." He touched a point low on his back to illustrate. "There was light all around her. The hair, it were brown with bits of red showin' in the light. Her eyes was a green sech as yer've ne'er seen. I cain't describe it. I don't have the words." He was quiet for a few seconds, his head hanging down. Finally he looked up. "While she were there, she put my soul at ease, she did. I felt blessed. But afore I could say anythin', she disappeared, she did, and then, in the dark, I felt troubled."
"Did she say anything else, do anything?" Brother Paul asked. He forced himself to hold his attention on the man in front of him, though a demanding itch made him want to turn and look toward the altar.
"No, Father, not that I recollect." The man shook his head. "Were it really her?"
Brother Paul had to hesitate before he answered. "I can't know that, my son. Such questions are for more learned souls than mine. I'll tell the bishop after Mass. I think…" He stopped and shook his head. "No, I shouldn't say even that. Just hold to that vision in your heart, my son. It may have been real. If her presence shows in your life, you may have been specially blessed."
The man crossed himself, bowed his head several times, then moved away, looking for a spot near the wall, away from the center of the growing crowd.
Brother Paul turned to look toward the altar-and Carillia. Her long auburn hair was hidden, braided and piled up under the helmet she wore now. But the friar had seen it before. And he had seen her brilliant green eyes. He stared at her back for a moment, then let his eyes look to her companions. Silvas, Bay, and Bosc all seemed lost in their magics, whatever they were. Even the bishop had his eyes closed and was standing in a posture of incantation.
"I am being lax in my duties," the vicar mumbled. He spoke a short prayer while he crossed himself, then moved into the few magics of protection he could muster, simple spells for his church and parishioners. He had just finished when he felt a hand touch his arm.
"Vicar, I needs yer a moment."
Brother Paul opened his eyes. The woman was Enid, the miller's wife. She was terrified. It showed on her face, in her eyes. "What is it, my child?" he asked.
"I think I saw Mother Mary comin' fer me in the night, Vicar. She stood by my bed and held her arms out."
"Not coming for you, surely," Brother Paul said. "Perhaps you mistook what you saw. The mother of our Lord doesn't come to take people."
"Really?"
"Really," Brother Paul said. "Tell me, what did she look like?"
He managed to keep any expression off his face when her description matched the first he had heard. When Enid finished, Brother Paul blessed her and sent her back to her husband.
"I need the counsel of my bishop on this," Brother Paul mumbled. He started to move toward the altar and Bishop Egbert. But yet another villager took him aside before he got there… with a similar tale.
– |St. Katrinka's scarcely had room for all the people of Mecq, and more people were present than usual-Silvas and his companions, and the churchmen from St. Ives. The monks had arrived as Brother Paul was talking to Enid, the miller's wife. They had come in led by the two gigantic cats Brother Paul had seen in the Glade. The cats went along the side of the church to Silvas.
Carillia remained with her back to the congregation. No one had yet had any opportunity to remark on her… resemblance to the vision that had come to some of them in the night. Silvas was obviously deep in his magic. That, especially inside the church, was enough to worry many of the villagers. Bosc and Bay worried them even more. The little fellow was so strange; he looked as if he might call both a human and a hog parents. And the giant horse, he appeared to be chanting as rapidly as the wizard or the short pig-like creature, though no one could hear any words from the horse. With all the strangeness present, Satin and Velvet were easier to accept, though their size was frightening.
Brother Paul went to the pulpit and started the Invocation. He blessed the congregation and spoke to them.
"Great danger is at hand, my children. You are all to stay inside the church until the coming fight is over. His Excellency the Bishop of St. Ives and the Lord Wizard Silvas have cast what protections they are able to command around St. Katrinka's to shield you from as much of the outside evil as possible." And to strengthen you against any follower of the Blue Rose who may have come into our midst, may God forgive me for suspicions, he added to himself.
"As you value your souls, do not leave until one of us tells you it is safe. We go to war, perhaps to Armageddon!" He thumped a fist against the armor that covered his chest. The gesture hurt his hand, but the ringing sound his armor made seemed an effective addition.
None of the greater powers in the church contradicted the vicar. Brother Paul glanced at them, almost wishing that one of them had.
– |Bishop Egbert hurried through the Mass as he rarely had in his life. Even so, the feeling of power was more intense than usual. The bishop noticed the difference early. At first he was willing to lay that entirely to the nearness of the struggle. He was no stranger to the anticipation that could make the heart pump faster, that could bring such a sharply defined awareness of everything. It wasn't until the elevation of the Host that he knew that this was more. It felt almost as if lightning were surging down into him through his upraised hands. His arms trembled for an instant, but he didn't drop the Host. And he completed the Mass without omission, though he raced through the remaining words even more rapidly. When he reached the closing benediction, he spoke the words of protection with more fervor than he had ever known. Then he reminded the people of Mecq that they were not to leave the sanctuary until they were told that it was safe.
"We go to meet the threat where it will be greatest," the bishop said. "We will be on the mountain overlooking your river and the pass from Blethye. Brother Paul, and the wizard and his companions, will be there with me. I leave you six of my brothers from the cathedral to see to your safety here. You are in good hands. God willing, we shall all emerge from this alive with our faith strengthened." He drew the sign of the cross over them again and then went to the side of the church where Silvas and the others waited.
"We have little time to spare," Silvas told him. "I feel the danger approaching."
"Then let us hurry." With the efficiency of a military commander, the bishop divided his monks into two groups. One of the brothers was already at the castle of Mecq. Five more would accompany the bishop now. The other six would remain. Those six moved to carefully chosen places within the church. One went to the altar. Two went to the far corners. Two more stationed themselves along the side walls, and the sixth found his place in the center, forming the points and focus of a pentagram.
Silvas and the bishop led the way out of the church by the side door to avoid the crowd. At the front of the church, nine saddled horses waited.
"The grooms said to bring this many," one of the monks said.
"I passed those orders to them," Silvas said. "We will ride to Sir Eustace's castle."
Silvas helped Carillia mount. Their eyes met, locked, for an instant, but neither spoke. Bosc got on his horse without help, though the stirrup was nearly at the level of his chin. Of the churchmen, Brother Paul was the only one who had difficulty mounting. "I can't recall the last time I rode a horse," he explained.
As soon as the vicar was mounted, Bay took off through the village. He didn't gallop, but the other horses, so much smaller than him, were forced into a canter from the start, just to keep from falling behind.
Carillia kept her horse even with Bay. As they left the village, she asked Silvas, "How will you begin?"
Silvas looked at her, surprised-as much by the fact that she had spoken as by what she had said. "Is that a question for you to ask me, or for me to ask you?" The words were difficult, ignoring the deeper questions he longed to ask but could not yet put into words.
"It is for me to ask you, my heart," she said.
"There seems only one way," Silvas said. "I'll tell you when we get to the top."
Bay ha
d already reached the path leading up the side of Mount Mecq, and there was no room for Carillia's horse beside the larger animal. The horses all fell into line behind Bay. On the climb the line stretched out as the more timid riders held back their mounts. Brother Paul had slid to the rear before they reached the hill, and he fell farther behind at every switchback along the climb. Only the two cats seemed unconcerned by the narrow path up the side of Mount Mecq. Satin and Velvet stayed close behind Silvas throughout the climb. At the top of the road, the gate to the castle was open, but the walls held every soldier that Sir Eustace possessed and much of the rest of the adult population of the castle, hurriedly armed against whatever might come. Henry Fitz-Matthew stood on the parapet above the gate. Only Sir Eustace and his family were not in sight.
"Close the gate!" Fitz-Matthew shouted as soon as Brother Paul made it through.
"No!" Silvas shouted back. "We will have to start our fight outside, on the ledge above the Eyler."
"I have my orders," Fitz-Matthew said.
"Damn your orders, man," Silvas shouted. "We begin our fight on the ledge above the river. Do you value your soul so little?"
That frightened the steward almost beyond reason. His eyes opened wider, and they had been wide enough with fear before. He looked to Brother Paul and then to the bishop.
"Do as he says," Brother Paul said, almost out of breath from the ride. "Sir Eustace will not fault you for it. You have my word."
"And mine!" Bishop Egbert thundered.
Fitz-Matthew nodded an unhappy acceptance.
Silvas and Carillia dismounted and walked back out through the gate together. Bay trailed along behind them. Bosc busied himself gathering the rest of the horses that had come from the mews of the Seven Towers and took them off within the courtyard to tie them to a railing by a water trough.
Silvas went right to the edge that overlooked the Eyler and the narrow pass between the two hills.
