by Kris Kramer
Pepin handed me the torch and motioned toward the hut, signaling that I would be the one to go inside. Ewen waited next to the church, obviously not eager to be anywhere near the house. I kept the torch low to the ground, shading some of the light, and took a deep, uneasy breath. This was what I came here for. Whoever was in that hut could answer my questions, or at least lead me to answers. I was finally reaching the end of this mystery, one slow step at a time. And that’s exactly how I approached the hut. One slow step…
Outside the hut, a rope hung from a stick jutting out from the thatched roof to another long, knotted branch jabbed into the ground a few paces away. Hanging from the taught rope were several bones, long and thin, like arm or leg bones, a few ribs, and two cow skulls. But what caught my attention was the bone hanging at the very end of the rope, closest to me. It was as long as my own arm, slightly curved, brilliantly white, as thick as my head at the top and it narrowed to a sharp point at the bottom. I would have thought I was staring at a giant tooth, if I were inclined to believe an animal that size existed. I resisted the urge to touch it as I walked by.
The hut itself had no door, only a thick piece of soot-covered wool that hung over the entrance. I pushed it aside gingerly, unsure of what might be waiting for me inside, and a cloud of dust puffed up around me, some of it igniting in tiny flashes when hitting the flame. The hut was dark inside, and it stank of all the worst smells I could imagine. Rotted food, offal, sweat, death. The torchlight filled the darkness, and I waved it about as I stepped through the doorway, looking for any sign of life. I heard a whimper, and I froze.
No sound followed, so I turned toward the back, holding the torch in front of me. A pallet of hay lay on the floor, up against the wall, with a person lying on it, under a tattered blanket. A tangled mess of long, brown hair stuck out from one end of the blanket, and I assumed this was the legendary woman I’d come to find. She lay on her side, facing the wall, so I only saw her back, but the curve of her hips strengthened my assumption. I stood motionless, watching her torso move slowly up and down. She was alive, but I couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep. I stared, waiting for movement, or a noise, or anything. Nothing changed, so I took a few cautious steps backward until I reached the door again. I stepped out to find Ewen and Pepin still keeping their distance.
"She’s in here!” I said, keeping my voice low. Both men nodded in return, but that was the extent of their response. I turned back to the entrance, but made no move to go inside, because I realized I didn’t know what to do next. “Can I touch her?"
Ewen shrugged. "I don't know."
“Well, how did she make you sick?”
“I don’t remember.”
My shoulders slumped. I couldn’t stand here all night waving my torch about. Someone might actually see us. I ducked back inside and stood next to the woman, trying to not to make a sound. She might be sleeping, but she kept making noises that suggested she was either crying quietly or having a bad dream. Either way, a touch might startle her. But then I realized that if she was awake, then she’d already seen the light from the torch, and she might be waiting for me to get closer. I didn’t know what to do. So in desperation, I just reached out and prodded her arm, hoping for the best.
“Excuse me-“
She screamed, and I flailed backward in surprise. I backed up against the opposite wall, keeping the torch and its protective flame between me and the woman, who was sitting up and throwing her arms about defensively.
“No! It’s all right,” I explained, holding my free hand out to her, hoping she understood that I had no weapons and was no threat. But she continued to shriek, and when I saw her eyes I realized she was sick. I didn’t see the evil in her, not like Caenwyld and Ewen. Instead I saw fear and pain and misery. I saw a woman so lost in herself that she couldn’t even look at me. She was completely mad.
“Don’t scream!” I said, desperately trying to pacify her. “I apologize! I didn’t mean to scare you, but please calm down!”
Her screaming turned into wailing, and then into long throaty moans, like an animal braying. By now, anyone within half a mile of this village would know we were here. I had to quiet her down, but she didn’t seem to understand a word I said. She didn’t even seem to be a woman any longer.
I slid sideways, taking care not make it look like I was approaching her, and poked my head back out. Pepin stood just outside, his knife in his hand. Ewen had covered half the distance to the hut, but he didn’t look anxious to come any closer.
“She’s scared. She keeps yelling but I don’t think she understands me. She might be delirious.”
“Make her quiet,” Pepin pleaded. “The whole island can hear her.”
“I’m trying,” I explained. “She doesn’t understand me.”
"Can you heal her?" Ewen asked.
"How? I don’t have anything to give her."
“No, not medicine,” Ewen said. “I mean ‘heal’ her.”
"You mean… like I did with you?"
Ewen nodded.
"I-I don't know,” I said, apprehensively. I had little desire to subject myself to that same experience. “I don't even know how I healed you."
"Just do the same thing,” Ewen said, his eyes wide. He and Pepin both watched the edges of the village carefully now. “You have to do something."
“Do it,” Pepin agreed. “Quickly. They’ll hear her in Ireland if this keeps up.”
I leaned back inside the hut, where the woman still moaned, holding her knees and rocking slowly back and forth. Pepin followed me in, and stared at her in revulsion. I gave him the torch, and then held out my hands to the woman, showing that I was still unarmed.
“Listen,” I told her, “I’m here to help you. But you have to stay quiet. I’m going to try and make you better. But you have to stay calm, okay? Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The woman gave no sign that my words reached her. I took a few tentative steps closer before the cloth door opened, and Ewen poked his head in. I took another deep breath to steady myself. If this would be anything like the night I healed Ewen, then things were about to become unpleasant.
“Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat…” I spoke the words without any real comprehension of what they meant, thinking instead about what had brought me here. I’d followed signs from above, leading me to a putrid hut in the middle of nowhere, trying to heal an obviously sick woman using a power gifted to me by God. Is this what I was now? A healer? Would I spend my time traveling about, like Christ himself, helping those infected by a demon? The notion was surreal, yet here I stood, readying myself to do just that. “Amen.”
I made the sign of the cross. “I absolve you of your sins.” Just as I had with Ewen, I reached out for her, tentatively, and she cowered, avoiding my touch. I looked at Pepin, and he motioned me onward, encouraging me to finish it.
“Be ready,” I said. “She may not like this.”
I held her head in my hands. She immediately tried to pull away and a scream formed in her throat. But then a numbing sensation overcame both of us, and she relaxed – just before the darkness tore through me.
I saw evil men doing evil things, unspeakable crimes, committing acts of violence just for the sake of reveling in the chaos. The visions danced through my head, as they had with Ewen, but this was different. Ewen's had been dark, and they had an intensity that caught me off guard. These were malevolent, but they seemed faint, distant, manageable. These I could handle easily. The problem, however, was that they kept coming, far more than with Ewen, each one adding to the torment building in my core.
The first visions passed through me and then faded away. But then they came faster, like a blustery wind. Soon I was seeing two at a time, then four, then more than I could count. One would fade into oblivion and a dozen more would take its place. They piled up, like leaves falling from a dying tree, or they surrounded me like rising water, threatening to drag my soul down into the depths. That sense o
f overwhelming horror began to form at the edges of my vision, threatening to knock me out again, so I readied myself to pull away.
But then I saw something new.
I was in her village, this village, before it had been destroyed. It was alive and vibrant, and people went about their business, talking, working, living, smiling. Then a woman appeared. She was beautiful, and young, with long auburn hair, and a simple brown dress. She walked to the center of the village and then stopped next to the church and took a long, deep breath. She opened her mouth and sang, though I couldn’t hear any sound at all. Before she could finish, though, she collapsed to the ground, lying in a heap, and nearby villagers approached to check on her. But then something new appeared, standing over her. It looked human, but distorted, like some devilish beast. It was tall and muscular, several heads taller than Ewen, but with black skin that looked charred, or rotted. It stood perched on thick, angular haunches, like a giant cat ready to pounce. Sickly yellow eyes watched the now-fleeing villagers with glee. The most frightening part of all, though, were the blades protruding in odd angles from its skin. Some were thin and sharp, others were thick and jagged. In place of fingers the beast had long pointed knives.
It crouched over the young woman, like a wolf eying its prey, though it didn’t seem interested in her. It was the rest of the village it watched with barely restrained hunger. Finally, it roared, and thrashed about, killing everyone in sight and destroying the buildings around it. It ripped the limbs off men and women and ate them. It spilled blood and then smeared it across its face, licking it from his hands. It was a creature of such evil that I couldn’t make myself believe that what I was seeing was real.
Then it looked directly me, and I saw my death in those eyes.
I pulled away, gasping for breath, holding my arms in front of my face.
"Daniel?" I heard Pepin’s voice. "What happened? Are you all right?"
My vision was blurry at first, but I regained focus quickly, and saw Ewen and Pepin standing anxiously next to me. I turned to the woman, who sat still on her bed, her eyes fixed on the wall, as if in a trance. I stared at her for a long moment, recovering my wits and my strength, as well as looking for any indication as to whether or not I’d actually healed her. I didn't finish it, I knew that much. I had the feeling that so much more needed to be done. But something about her was different.
She blinked, and looked at me for an instant, and I saw - or maybe imagined - the hint of a smile. She looked away, lost in her thoughts, and then mumbled something unintelligible. The words turned into humming, and I got the impression she was trying to sing.
"Did you do it?" Ewen asked, as confused as the rest of us.
"I don't think so. I started to, but I couldn't finish. There was too much. "
“You did something,” Pepin said. “She is calm.”
“Perhaps.” I watched her warily. Something still affected her mind, but she seemed at ease now. “Maybe there’s only so much I’m able to do for her.”
“Can you do it again?” Pepin asked.
“No!” I shook my head insistently. “No, I can’t do that again. It takes too much out of me. It’s like a hundred little thorns raking across my skin over and over.”
Ewen looked at the woman, then at me. “What do we do now?”
I looked at him, helplessly. I had no idea, a feeling I was far too familiar with lately. But then I remembered the church. Whatever destroyed this village, and I had my doubts about this woman’s vision, the church had been spared. Sanctuary, indeed.
“I need a place to rest,” I said, feeling short of breath. “But not here. Madam, can you hear me?”
She glanced up at me, making brief eye contact, before staring back at the wall.
"We need to go to the church. We'll be safe there. Will you go there with us?"
She looked at my chest and without a word she held out her limp, dainty hand. I took it, a little surprised by her willingness, and helped her up. She didn't speak, and I could still see the madness behind her eyes, but she was far less agitated. She kept her hand on my arm, and we walked out of the hut without making a sound.
Chapter 20
Ewen threw open the front door of the church, revealing the dank stillness within. We waited at the entrance while Pepin tentatively leaned through the doorway, holding the torch in front of him. He walked in first, slowly, letting the light gradually illuminate the empty room, and I saw how much bigger this church was compared to the one in Rogwallow. Unfortunately, that extra space only heightened the sadness that seemed to permeate its walls. It was built in three sections, the center section acting as the nave, with a short tower built on top. The nave had two doors, one on each side of the building, directly opposite each other, and in the center were two rows of arches that spanned the width of the room. Before the village had been destroyed, those arches probably separated the landowners from the poor.
Behind the altar was another room, smaller than the nave, which looked to me like the chancel. A broken pillar sat in the corner, which I assumed was once the stand for a large bowl used for baptisms, and each of the three outside-facing walls had in its center a narrow, cross-shaped window. At the other end of the church was a room that probably doubled as both a storeroom and a small living area. A pallet of straw and a blanket filled one corner, along with plenty of rat droppings and tiny bones.
After making sure we were alone, Ewen moved back to the chancel and stared out each window like a nervous dog. I helped the woman to the wooden bench at the front, the only one still in one piece, and set her down. I parked myself next to her and took a few deep breaths, glad to be off my feet. I didn’t know what healing did to me, but it left me feeling drained, as if I’d spent all day in the sun digging graves, an exercise I’d once taken part in during my travels through Frankia. I gulped down most of the water I had left in my water skin, hoping I wouldn’t regret that later, while Pepin wandered over to the nearest corner and set the torch down on the floor, to keep the light from glowing out the windows and doors. We all waited quietly for several minutes, until Ewen stalked into the room impatiently.
“Now what?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders.
“I don’t know.” I stared at the woman, who still hummed some unrecognizable song. “Honestly, I thought our next step would present itself once we found her. But now…” I left the bench and crouched down in front of her, trying to catch her eye, though she still avoided looking directly at me. “What is your name?” I asked. She continued to hum, swaying her head gently from side to side. “Can you speak at all?” She gave no response, and I resisted the urge to hold her still like some unruly child. She was awake, and aware of us as far as I could tell, but she seemed to be perpetually lost in some dream, or more likely, a nightmare. I thought about trying to heal her again, but I wasn’t sure I could do it without passing out. Not only that, I didn’t know if I was even capable of healing her any more than I already had. Maybe what I’d done so far was the limit of my ability.
"I don't think we should wait here,” Ewen angled toward the side door, near Pepin. “We should get back to the docks before sunrise and leave."
"It’s too dark,” I said. I stood and paced about in front of the altar. “We should stay here a while. We'll be safe in the church."
"How do you know that?"
I shrugged. "The village was destroyed, but the church still stands. We're safe here."
"No. We're safer on the other side of the water. It's dark outside, they won’t have any scouts out, and they wouldn't be able to spot us even if they did. We should run."
We should run, I thought. We should run fast and far away. But I didn’t say that because I believed what I'd told him, that the fact the church still stood, unmarked, meant something. What it meant was a harder question to answer.
"She doesn’t move well,” I said, using the easiest excuse I could think of to placate them, “and I don’t trust her to stay quiet if we make her leave. I want to stud
y her first, and see if I can learn anything that might be useful. Until then the church will be our sanctuary."
"Like it was in Eoferwic?"
I frowned at Ewen’s words, and at his patronizing attitude. He certainly wasn’t afraid to speak his mind any more. "I saw this church when I healed her. The one vision that sticks with me more than any of the others had this very church in it.” I pointed at the floor for effect. “That is a sign from God, Ewen, and I will not take it lightly, not after finally making progress. The church is our sanctuary,” I repeated. “You must believe me."
Ewen sniffed loudly and returned to the chancel in a huff. Pepin sat cross-legged on the floor, watching us quietly. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to remain pragmatic about our situation. Ewen’s words, as pointed as they were, sounded reasonable to me, and I hoped I wasn't just being stubborn. I reminded myself that God brought me here, to this island, to this building, with this woman, and I couldn’t walk away from that until I understood why. But what was so important about a filthy, raving, hermit of a woman, living alone in a hut in a burned down village, and what was I supposed to do with her if I couldn’t heal her? There was a reason behind this madness, and it continued to escape me. I stared at her brown, unfocused eyes, hoping a sign, or some sort of understanding would present itself, but I had no such luck. I would have to figure this out on my own.
“I have to admit,” I said, looking at the woman but speaking to Ewen and Pepin, “I’m not really sure what to make of her. She doesn’t seem capable of speaking to us, so she can’t tell me anything useful. Maybe we could go back to her house and look for some-“
