The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  He continued his maintenance of the ward network, but Callie’s warning was growing into a newer, bigger distraction. She said Rainer was planning something, and from his limited experience with the man, Sean could tell Rainer was as reasonably intelligent as he was vicious. He had dared to take on an assassination mission on King Hugo’s life with near success, and now that he knew how hard he was to be killed, he would be even more bold in future schemes.

  So what to do about it? Sean hadn’t a clue since he didn’t know what Rainer’s next move was, but he increasingly got the sense that he and Callie weren’t prepared. Sean now had a powerful familiar, but considering how resistant Rainer was to magic, he doubted the undine would be enough for his protection.

  He suddenly remembered something he’d overheard at Five Sisters Cathedral, and an idea began to form. It wasn’t without risk, and it might prove deadly, but he was desperate enough to try anything if it meant dealing with Rainer in an effective manner. The undine supported the idea and encouraged him to go for it … but she didn’t understand what “death” was, rendering her opinion moot.

  Twenty-six

  On Friday, Sean made up an excuse for him to leave the house, claiming that the undine was getting restless. There was something she left behind, he said, so he wished to search for it along the Arlen Tributary to satisfy her. The count granted him permission to leave with a horse, but he warned that if the undine got willful like this too often, she might have to be let go.

  Sean set out on a brown mare, clad in a brown formal robe and cloak. With the help of a few pedestrians, he found his way to the Church of St. Henrick, nestled amid lovely forestland where cold evergreens stood tall amid the warm colors of autumn. The building was a humble dwelling without much to make it stand out. It had a statue of its namesake in the modest courtyard and some masterful paintings, but it wasn’t magnificent overall.

  Few could guess that inside was a room where one could directly confront the Lord God, which was precisely why the church was built the way it was.

  Sean tied the mare to a post then went inside to beg for an audience with a curator. He was led to the office of one Monsignor Fred Owens, a fiftyish man whose white beard and pot belly made him resemble jolly ol’ St. Nick. The young mage sat across Owens at his desk, where he curiously looked over the relative shabbiness of the room. Owens was apparently not one to gather material wealth, even if just to decorate his workspace. At least it had a lit fireplace to keep the morning’s chill away.

  “Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Monsignor. My name is Sean McAlister. I’m an apprentice mage in the household of Count Erik Guyver.”

  “Pleased to meet you, my child. You look like you’ve fallen on rough times. If you need guidance, I am here for you.” Owens sounded cordial enough, but there was a hint of suspicion in his tone. He likely knew what Sean was going to ask for.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of the serial killer terrorizing the city. He started with Bishop Lansdale and killed many more. Three of them were mages who I worked with to find him.” He held up his hands with their missing fingers and went into the story of how Rainer had held him in a cellar and tortured him for fun. “He needs to be stopped, but magic can’t do anything to him. He just walks right through it as if it’s nothing.”

  “How is that possible?” Owens asked.

  “He claims he was blessed by God or some other deity. I’m almost inclined to believe him.”

  “No, God would never condone a killer of innocents, nor a tormentor of souls. Something else must be protecting him.”

  “Yes, but I believe there is something that will work on him.” He paused to let the words sink in. “Monsignor, please grant me permission to enter your exalting chamber and attain holy magic.”

  Owens sighed and briefly upturned his hands. “Have you gone through the cleansing ritual?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you should already know my answer. I cannot allow you inside.”

  “Holy magic might be the only thing that can safely stop this man.”

  “Sean, the city guard is looking for him, so leave it to them. You don’t need to take on this manhunt all by yourself.”

  “But it’s been two weeks, and they haven’t caught him yet.”

  “I understand your impatience; I want him caught, too. But what you want is revenge, not justice. That is also understandable, but it is not the way of Micah. Leave this man to the guards and have faith. He will be caught.”

  Sean bit his lower lip. Owens did not know him well, so the priest assumed he was only driven by self-interest. “I don’t mean to kill him; I want to incapacitate him safely. The wanted posters say he is to be brought in alive, and that is what I mean to do.”

  Owens leaned back in his seat and folded his hands together. “Okay, even if your motive is just—which it is, I assure you—you haven’t gone through the cleansing ritual. You are not ready.”

  “I know,” Sean muttered. The ritual was a simple yet strenuous method of “cleansing” one’s body and soul by robbing it of immaterial desires. It involved a person locking himself in a room with only a bed and a chamber pot for three weeks. In that time, he must do little else than sleep and meditate, staying calm, quiet and cooperative while a servant—usually a monk or nun—delivered food, changed the chamber pot, and kept the room tidy. If the person cannot stand this monotonous existence for the whole three weeks, then he is let out and written down as a failed candidate for the exalting chamber.

  “Only by freeing yourself of earthly desires can you be ready to face God in the chamber,” Owens said. “If you did not, well … you wouldn’t want to know what shape you’d be in.”

  “Have you been here long?” Sean asked. “Have you seen a lot of people go in there?”

  “I’ve been here for over fifteen years, and in all that time I’ve only seen four people enter the chamber. We are very selective about our candidates; even some who have gone through the ritual are not chosen if we feel they are still not ready.”

  Sean swallowed back a lump in his throat. “How many succeeded?”

  “In my lifetime, I’ve only seen three people succeed. One was here at St. Henrick’s. Those who failed …” Owens sighed, his eyes dark and troubled.

  “They actually died?”

  “Yes. It’s no myth; it is the God-honest truth. Those who are not chosen by God wind up dead.”

  “Is it true that they burn?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but yes, they do, and they are scorched so badly they’re left unrecognizable. As it says in the Holy Book, ‘The light of the moon shall be as the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold as the light of seven days.’ Do you know what this means?”

  Sean shrugged. “It means the light of Heaven is incredibly hot.”

  “Yes, and while bodiless souls cannot be harmed by it, a body still on Earth can. In the exalting chamber, your prayer will open a pathway directly to Heaven through the light of the nemcron crystal. If God sees fit to bestow you with holy magic, you will be unharmed. And if not, Heaven’s light will burn you worse than any bonfire. That, my child, is why we do not allow just anyone into the room, and we do not talk about it outside.” He chuckled. “Trust me, I wish I could be eligible for holy magic, but there is no reading the mind of God apart from the Holy Book. He cannot say beforehand whether he’ll bless a candidate or not, so I have little choice but to reject candidates more often than accept them. It’s either that or leave a lot of burning bodies in my wake.”

  Sean paused for thought, trying to come up with the right thing that would persuade Owens to allow him inside. He had first learned about exalting chambers from his spiritual mentor, Monsignor Stevens, and he never had reason to seriously consider entering one. The risk was too high, he hadn’t desired holy magic, and his father would have forbidden it anyway. But that changed wh
en Rainer revealed himself as one of the Three Roses. Sean contemplated explaining who and what Rainer was to Monsignor Owens, but the priest was a prudent man who would think he was just making an elaborate excuse.

  “No one knows I’m here,” Sean said. “If I don’t make it, then no one has to know it was me. You said those who fail are left unrecognizable, right?”

  Owens appeared disgusted, though he tried to hide it. He stood and firmly said, “That’s enough, young man. The answer is no, and there is no more use discussing it. Please leave and forget about obtaining holy magic. It’s for your own good.”

  “Yes, Monsignor. I apologize, it’s just that—” He raised his right hand to recall his traumatizing experience. “I fear Rainer will come after me again. Normal magic is my best defense, but it’s useless against him.”

  “And you think holy magic will work?”

  “Holy magic is a gift straight from God. How could it not work?”

  Owens spread his hands. “Your intentions are noble, but if I let you in there today, I shall be expelled from the Church. If you still want to try, ask your count if he shall allow you to undergo the ritual. Only then will I consider it.”

  Sean thanked the priest for his time and exited the church. As he headed back to his horse, he didn’t know what to think or how to feel about the situation. Should he be relieved that his obviously foolhardy idea was rejected, or should he be appalled that Owens didn’t think he was qualified for the exalting chamber? Sean had been a follower of Micah all his life, a believer in peace though he killed others when he was forced to. And since his desire for holy magic stemmed from his wish to detain Rainer, surely God would choose him even without the cleansing ritual. Rainer was one-third of God’s son, so God would want someone to stop him humanely before he did any more killings.

  But of course, Monsignor Owens had to be very selective with his candidates because God was selective. Even if someone went through cleansing, there was no guarantee God would give him holy magic, and there was no way to speak directly to God beforehand to ensure safety.

  Obtaining holy magic was just a boyish fantasy Sean had dreamed up on a whim. The exalting chamber was too dangerous for someone like him, and it would be a bitter irony if the very light of Heaven killed him before Rainer could.

  But I had been so sure it would work. Something brought me here, and I’d like to think it was more than just my imagination.

  As he neared his horse, a man approached him wearing the padded winter robe of an acolyte. The undine wanted to scare him off, but Sean ordered her to remain still and silent. “Hello,” the acolyte said. “May I talk with you?”

  “Yes,” Sean said with uncertainty. “What about?”

  “Let’s go somewhere else first,” the acolyte said and bade Sean to follow him around the church. Sean was skeptical, wondering if this was a ruse by a bandit in disguise. He told the undine to remain watchful and defend him if need be.

  They came to a patch of evergreens on the church’s north side, the prickly branches obscuring the building. “What’s this about?” Sean asked.

  The acolyte made a determined sigh. He was a few years younger than Sean, with longish black hair combed to the side and inquisitive dark eyes. “My name’s Thomas. I overheard some of what you said in there. Do you really want holy magic to stop the serial killer?”

  Sean nearly said no but quickly reconsidered. He held up his hands and said, “Yes, I do. I came face-to-face with him, and I’m lucky to be alive but I’m afraid my luck will run out. He might come to get me again someday.”

  Thomas grimaced at the sight of the missing fingers. “I can’t believe the guards haven’t found him yet. They searched my home and turned everything over. As if we’d ever want to hide a man like that.”

  “Well, they must think Rainer has forced himself into someone’s home by threatening their lives.”

  Thomas shook his head. “My mother is terrified of him. She’s always going on about how he’ll get her someday. Me and my sister tell her she’s being scared for nothing, but she doesn’t listen. She says this man Rainer will smear her blood on a wall and desecrate the house. I can’t tell her she’s being silly because, well … that is what he does.”

  Sean shivered, and it had nothing to do with the wind. Memories of the cellar in the Red Borough came flooding back, and he vividly recalled how Rainer took pleasure in sawing off his fingers and toes.

  “If you think nothing can stop him except holy magic, let me help you,” Thomas said. “You usually need two keys to open the chamber, but I know of a secret way. It’s used for emergencies, and the priests don’t know that I know. I can get you inside at lunch when everyone’s busy eating. You’ll just need a robe to disguise yourself.”

  Thomas looked at him expectantly. “If we do this, you’ll probably get caught,” Sean said.

  “No one will know. We’ll just have to open the door when the hall is empty.”

  “Sure, but even a simple plan like that doesn’t always go smoothly. You might get caught, so I need you to think about what you’re doing. If you don’t want to take the risk, I won’t think any less of you.”

  Thomas wrinkled his brow. “I … I want the killer stopped as much as you do. He hasn’t done anything to me, but my mother is always talking about him, and I’m worried, too. I want to help you.”

  Sean sighed through his nose, not quite convinced he was going to do the right thing. “I’ll come back to this spot in a few hours. If you’ve changed your mind then, that’ll be okay. If not, we’ll go ahead.”

  “Thanks. Uh, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Sean McAlister. I’m an apprentice in Count Guyver’s residence.”

  “Okay, Sean. I’ll look for you at lunch.”

  Thomas returned to the church, and Sean took the mare into town. He passed the time by riding slowly down the cobbled roads, familiarizing himself with the various shops and homes. He bought the mare some apples that were left over from the year’s final harvest and window-shopped at a magic store with overpriced trinkets and potions.

  All the while, he ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind, telling him he was crazy for wanting to enter the exalting chamber. It said that Rainer may have frightened him, but taking a huge risk for holy magic was not the answer to dealing with the mad killer. He was surely walking into his own death, his fear and desire for safety overtaking his common sense.

  Sean ordered the voice to stay silent, which unintentionally confused the undine. He said he wasn’t speaking to her, only his guilty conscience. Of course, the undine didn’t know what a “conscience” was, so he explained the best he could about one’s sense of right and wrong. This only further confused her, which in turn sowed doubts about the undine being any good for him.

  He returned at the appointed hour and found Thomas ready for him. The young acolyte asserted his commitment to helping Sean, his eyes glinting with unconditional adoration. Sean thought the man a little too naïve for his own good, and he frowned upon realizing that he himself was like that once.

  He dropped his cloak and brown robe on the layer of pine needles on the forest floor and put on the white-and-silver acolyte’s robe Thomas provided. Thomas gave him a few pointers on how to behave inside, such as keeping his head down as he walked and stopping to bow to passing clerics and wishing them a good afternoon. Sean then ordered his undine to leave his body and wait for him under the trees. The undine protested, saying via gloomy images that she never wanted to leave his side. He said the separation was only temporary and coaxed her to enter a tree trunk. Thomas was startled at seeing a mass of water move on its own, and he asked Sean what kind of spell he did.

  “No spell, just a companion who doesn’t know what a conscience is,” Sean said, leaving his new partner mystified.

  The young men went through a side door leading to a dining hall where the chu
rch’s archbishop ate with his subordinates. Sean expected the men to chide them for letting the warm air out or make some other complaint, but the clerics gave the acolytes little notice.

  Sean kept his head down as they passed by the tables, giving no indication that he was new here except for his darting eyes. He looked around for Monsignor Owens, but the apparent twin of St. Nicholas wasn’t in the room. This increased the chance of them meeting Owens in a hallway, and if he spotted Sean, then the plan was ruined and they’d both be disciplined.

  Thomas led him down a long hall where they bowed and greeted a passing priest who muttered something in return. As they continued into the building, Sean suddenly felt a pang of loss and regret. Thoughts of the undine immediately surfaced, and he realized the bonding spell was affecting him. He may have been the master, but his soul was as much connected to the undine as she was to him. He wished he had foreseen these strange feelings, for he might have brought the undine inside with him after all. Lord knew his familiar was now probably going crazy where he left her.

  There’s nothing for it now; we’ll have to hold out till this is over with.

  They soon rounded a corner into a hall made of red brick instead of the usual panels of finished wood. In its dead center was a steel door with an engraving of a burning cross. Beside it was a steel sign that read DO NOT ENTER, giving no indication as to where it led, though it could be nothing else but the exalting chamber.

  They were alone in the hall, and Sean suspected this wasn’t normally a place people would be in, but they had to act quickly in case someone passed through an adjacent hall and spotted them. Thomas produced a butter knife and inserted it into a narrow hole above a brick to the right of the door. With the knife and his fingers, he nudged the brick partway out of the wall, then put the knife into another hole and did the same, eventually pulling out three bricks that were mortared together but separate from the rest of the wall. Thomas put his hand deep into the resulting hole and struggled to work with something within. The acolyte’s grimacing face made Sean nervous, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead in spite of the cold air.