Sanctuary (Dominion)

by Kris Kramer

  Shortly after, a man walked in, one of the large Irishmen who'd escorted us from the church. He had bright orange hair that would have hung to his thick neck if it wasn't pulled back behind his head in a short ponytail, and his sharp green eyes watched the two of us carefully. He brought in two wooden plates with a meager chunk of bread and some cheese, and set them down on the floor next to us.

  "Eat," he said, which I did, gladly. "I am called Boric. I am your keeper. If you need food or water, you tell me. If you need to piss, you tell me. If you need to talk to one of us, you talk to me. If you cause problems or speak out of turn," he looked at me sternly, "I will be forced to show you discipline."

  I nodded quietly.

  When we finished, Boric walked between us and pulled out a large hunting knife, which he used to cut the ropes holding us to the tent pole.

  "You can walk around during daylight," he said, picking up the plates, "but if you try to leave the camp, you die."

  "Thank you," I said, but I made no move to stand. Boric left and I immediately wondered if I should test my new freedom by leaving the tent. I thought it might be a trick, though I couldn't see how.

  Ewen. I needed to find him, and if I was free to wander the camp, I would. I stood and walked cautiously toward the entrance, peeking through the flap, expecting to be cuffed in the jaw for my brazenness, but nothing happened. Instead, I saw Sefrid sitting on the ground outside, tending to a small fire. I heard a whimper behind me, and I turned back to see Avaline, still lying on the floor, reaching for me.

  I moved closer, but I didn't take her hand. "I'm only going outside. Wait here." She sighed, but I don’t know if it was in response to me or not.

  Sefrid looked at me as I stepped out of the tent. She sat cross-legged on the ground next to the empty iron cooking pot, her hands in her lap.

  "They've set you free?"

  I nodded. "I was told I had to stay in the camp or I'd be killed."

  Sefrid pursed her lips thoughtfully. "True. You can wander about, but I wouldn't."

  "Why not?"

  "None of these men will be eager to share their fire with you, priest. You'd only be inviting trouble by letting them see you walk through their ranks. Especially Ruark's men."

  I looked up to see at least a dozen pairs of eyes on me already, as Irishmen throughout the camp noticed me standing outside Lorcan’s tent. None of those eyes looked friendly.

  "Who is Ruark?"

  "Cullach's ally. His are the tents farther north." She gestured vaguely.

  “Ah. Well, I had no intention of trying to be cordial to any of them.”

  “Wise.”

  “They captured another man with me, named Ewen. Do you know where they took him?”

  Sefrid pursed her lips and said nothing for a moment. Finally, she pointed to a large tent on the far side of the camp, close to the water. "He’s there. But you won't be allowed to see him. And I’d suggest you don’t even try."

  The tent was wider than the others, and I suspected if I could get behind it, on the side facing the shore, I could sneak under the flaps and find him. But that would be the easy part. He was probably chained, or tied up, and he might not be the only one in there.

  “Why not? Is he okay?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” She paused. “For now.”

  “What does that mean? What will happen to him?”

  “You will see soon enough." Sefrid looked across the water, at the fort across the bay. “You will see what your God has wrought.”

  “My God?” I crouched down next to her. “God would not harm him. Does this involve the woman? Avaline?”

  "Daniel,” she said, returning her attention to her fire, “some things must be experienced."

  She offered no other explanation, so I shook my head, frustrated. I sat heavily on the ground, letting a long sigh escape my lips. I must endure, I thought to myself. I am doing God’s work. He is testing me, that’s all. For Ewen’s sake, I must endure.

  I looked out at the darkening horizon, and I thought of Pepin for the first time all day. I wondered if he was still out there, watching us. He had a knack for disappearing before things became dangerous, but he also seemed to show up when you least expected it. Perhaps he was still on the island, waiting for the right time to help us escape. Or maybe he’d returned to Caernarvon to tell Rhodrik’s men what happened. They wouldn’t help us, of course. They’d warned us this would happen. If anything, they were sitting back in the fort, laughing at our foolishness.

  I was likely stuck here for a while, and I would only escape through my own ingenuity. Or luck. Or the grace of God. After the mess I’d gotten myself into now, it would likely take ample amounts of all three.

  Chapter 23

  A kick at my leg woke me the next morning. I opened my eyes to find Lorcan glowering over me. I tensed, bracing myself for another beating.

  "Get up,” he barked. He eyed Avaline, who slept next to me on the floor. "Bring her." He left in a huff.

  I relaxed, relieved not to be the subject of another tantrum, and stood up slowly. I prodded Avaline’s arm and she woke with a start, her eyes darting around wildly, before finally settling on my chest. I helped her stand, propping up her arms as she worked to steady her weak legs, and the two of us walked outside the tent and into the early morning sun.

  Lorcan waited impatiently for us, along with four of his black-robed men – including Boric – who I assumed by now to be his own personal coterie, along with twelve of Cullach's soldiers, and six other men chained together in a line. My heart sank at the sight of the last man in that line, though - Ewen. His head and shoulders drooped, and he stared at the ground sadly. My breath caught in my lungs as I realized what I was about to witness.

  This can’t be it. I can’t watch them do this to him.

  Boric wandered over and dragged us into the line behind Lorcan, though we weren’t chained or tied up like the others.

  "If she behaves, you live," Lorcan said, poking his bony finger in my chest. "If not, then you die. Remember that, priest of God." He said the words as if they were an insult. I pulled Avaline close, praying that she didn’t have any outbursts, but my eyes continually darted back to Ewen.

  The procession left camp, drawing the foreboding stares of almost everyone who stayed behind. We went south, angling toward the shore, following it for most of the morning as it snaked around to the west. A dozen or so wooden boats of various sizes littered the bay, including six identical longboats much larger than the rest. They were all moored on the shore near the camp, and a few Irishmen worked at cleaning the decks and loading supplies on board, which made me think they intended to use them shortly. Eventually, the shoreline cut north, toward the fort I'd seen on the other side of the bay, and we went straight toward it. The walls were stone, and it sat on the opposite side of the small harbor that cut inland, on high ground that overlooked the water. As we approached, however, I discovered that what I was seeing wasn’t just a fort. It was a church, surrounded on three sides by defensive walls. The fourth wall wasn't missing, though. The fort just used the rocky cliffs overlooking the harbor as a natural defense on that side. I hadn't expected Lorcan to take us to a church, though I remembered all too well Sefrid’s warning.

  The air became heavy as we drew closer. I tried to take several deep breaths, but none of them filled my lungs. I looked at the others to see if I was the only one having trouble, but no one else slowed or even wheezed. A grueling, stomach-tightening sickness formed in my gut, and at first I thought it might be anxiety from not knowing what lie ahead, but the closer we came to those walls, the more it consumed me from within. My face felt flush and clammy, my legs grew weak, and my skin burned at the touch. But that wasn’t the worst of it. A vile darkness emanated from within those walls, a darkness I could feel on my skin like a bitter, icy wind, and it came straight for me, filling me with an overpowering sense of dread. Suddenly, I could think of nothing but the unholy terrors that must lie inside.


  "I can't... no," I pulled back, trying to both run away and fall to the ground. I ended up stumbling about in a stupor. "Don't make me go in there."

  “Keep him still," Lorcan said. Boric grabbed me by the shoulder, held me straight, and then punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air, but even that pain didn't compare to the wickedness that surrounded this place. I staggered away from the others, desperate to get away, but Boric just picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I couldn’t escape his grip, so instead of fighting I tried to relax. I closed my eyes and I let my breaths come slowly and surely, and somehow that seemed to soften the terror. But still it lurked all around me.

  We were led into the church, but the place seemed a dark and twisted imitation to me. Ivy covered great sections of the walls, the wood slats that once formed the roof had rotted and decayed, leaving large holes open to the sky, and the smell of dung suggested that animals were making this structure their home. At the rear of the nave was an empty storeroom with a heavy oak door at the back. One of Lorcan’s men pushed open the door, which creaked from age, and about half of Cullach's soldiers pulled out torches and lit them. Two men entered the tower first, followed by Lorcan. Boric dropped me unceremoniously from his shoulder, lifted me to my unsteady feet, and pushed me inside after Lorcan, along with Avaline. Past the door was a round room with a spiral staircase that led up to the next level of what must be one of the towers. The room was musty and dank, but the low door in the opposite wall drew my attention. Jagged steps had been cut out of the stone in the floor, and Lorcan and his men steadily climbed down to whatever lay beneath the walls of this place. I became queasy, and a pressure in my head pushed and twisted like a strong hand gripped tightly on my crown, but Lorcan’s men had no time for my troubles. They urged me onward with their fists, and I followed Lorcan to the depths below, Avaline by my side.

  We climbed down thirty or so steps before the narrow stairwell leveled out into a hallway. Lorcan’s men were already lighting torches along the wall, and I covered my nose at the stench of offal that filled this place. Faint, desperate moans emanated from the darkness of the hallway ahead, and if I wasn’t already sick, the thought that people somehow lived down here could have driven me to retch.

  Lorcan looked at me and smiled in that awful, sardonic way. “Welcome to the dungeons of Caer Gybi, priest.” The name suggested that this place had passed through both Roman and Welsh hands. Now, though, it was Lorcan’s domain, although I suspected he didn’t rule it alone.

  The hallway curved back around until it moved in the opposite direction, and then opened out into a small, square room with halls at each of the cardinal directions. Lorcan led us straight through, then down the next hallway, until we finally stopped at a cell with a heavy iron door that had a small grate at eye level. Lorcan produced a large iron key and unlocked the door. He opened it outward, as far as it would go, until those of us up front could see the dark, miserable cell inside. The room was empty save for a pallet of hay in the corner, some rags scattered about, and three sets of iron shackles chained to the back wall, as well as a smattering of human bones on the floor.

  Lorcan stepped inside and looked around. “Bring the big one in first, the one at the back.”

  Four of Cullach’s soldiers dragged Ewen into the cell. He struggled, and the guards fought to keep him still before a few punches to his gut dropped him to his knees and made him easier to manage. I winced at each blow, cursing my weakness in this place, and praying for another miracle. Surely God hadn’t brought us here for this.

  Lorcan peered out the door and pointed to another man in chains, near the front. He was small, thin, and wiry, with a wide, broken nose, a long scar on his neck, and several missing teeth. Two more guards brought him in after Ewen and forced him to his knees. They held him there, although he seemed to be dazed and wasn’t putting up any kind of fight.

  “This one,” Lorcan said, “is Oswald. He is quite the criminal. Do know what he’s done?” He looked at me, reveling not only in my pain but my confusion. “A vicious murderer, he is. Snuck into a house one night and killed everyone inside. Well, he killed the men first. The women he tied up and gagged, but they died too, eventually. That in itself would be horrifying enough, but it’s what he did next that makes him special. The bodies were cut up into small pieces,” Lorcan watched me carefully now, “and boiled. Then he ate each piece, one by one. When he was discovered the next morning by the rest of the village’s residents, he’d already eaten two legs and an arm. They tried to capture him that morning but he ran away and hid in the woods for months before he was found and brought here.” Lorcan reached over and stroked Oswald’s hair like a proud father. “Now, his gifts will serve me.”

  Oswald trembled at the sound of his name, and I saw an understanding smile cross his lips before fading back into a hazy stupor.

  “Bring the woman here,” Lorcan said. I stood straight, ignoring the pain coursing through my head and the heaviness in my stomach, and stepped forward laboriously with Avaline, guiding her to the center of the cell, next to Lorcan, Ewen and Oswald. She moved without reservation, and I started feeling dizzy so I fell back against the wall, trying not to collapse.

  Lorcan leaned in close to Avaline and whispered something in her ear. She held her hand out and he guided it to Oswald. She grabbed his head, then slid her hand down to caress his face. Once there, she squeezed and I saw Oswald’s eyes go wide, not from her grasp, but from something else. He convulsed, but Avaline held on for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally, his eyes fluttered, then closed, and she let go, and Oswald fell to the ground, breathing as if he’d run the entire way here from camp.

  Avaline swayed slightly now, her eyes closed, and her mouth twisted in discomfort. I almost reached out to her, to see if she needed me, but Lorcan whispered to her again, and again he guided her hand to Ewen, who watched it approach him in horror. He tried to pull away, and the guards holding him struggled mightily, but Avaline found his face, and once there he stopped moving. As with Oswald, his eyes went wide, and his body trembled. A few long moments later, she let go and fell backward, toward me. I caught her, and held her while Ewen collapsed to the floor, moaning. One of the guards cut the ropes binding his hands, and then Lorcan and all the raiders left the cell.

  “You should step outside, priest,” Lorcan said while waiting at the door, “and bring the woman.”

  I lifted myself from the wall, holding Avaline, and we staggered to the door, leaving Ewen and Oswald lying on the floor. I watched Ewen as we did, and I saw his hands flex as he started to come to. He lifted his head and looked at me, but as soon as I saw his eyes I knew it wasn’t the Ewen I brought with me. His eyes were dark, malevolent, and he turned them to Oswald with a fury.

  One of the Irishmen grabbed the door and slammed it shut, while another locked it. Only seconds later I heard a roar of anger from within, followed by an unholy scream from Oswald. An instant later, a sharp pain pierced my mind, like a burning hot needle puncturing both of my temples and plunging deep into my thoughts. I grabbed my head, but it made no difference. The pain was intense and burning, then cold and frightening. It was accompanied by voices, low at first, like a constant unintelligible whispering, but then it grew, and the voices shouted at me, but I couldn't understand a word they said.

  At some point, I stopped fighting, and simply withdrew into myself. I could see everything happening around me, but I viewed it with a detached sense of awareness that kept me from feeling the full brunt of whatever darkness resided in this place. It still threatened to overwhelm me, but instead of pushing against it, I let it carry me, like a leaf floating on the wind.

  “Keep up, priest. We’re not done yet.”

  I heard Lorcan’s voice, but when I turned to him I saw only his black, soulless eyes, floating in the ether around me. He looked back at me, and it was impossible to mistake the horrifying, unending darkness he carried within him. I recoiled in terror, and fell to the floor, scrambling
away as fast as I could, but I did it instinctively. The pain in my mind made it impossible to comprehend what I saw, or to formulate a way out. I could only scream, and crawl away, while the darkness emanating from his eyes filled the tunnel, surrounding me in an icy grip. I heard another voice then, a deep one, from somewhere below. I couldn’t hear the words, but I had no problem understanding what came after them. Laughter. The devil himself laughed at me.

  Chapter 24

  The world was dark and terrible. Heavy winds buffeted me, pushing me sideways as I cowered amongst the black, jagged rocks with edges sharp enough to cut skin and points that seemed eager to impale me. The rocks were scattered about the base of a towering black mountain, taller than any mountain I’d ever seen, so tall, in fact, that I couldn’t see the top because it disappeared into the roiling grey clouds that covered the crimson sky. Lightning flashed throughout the desolate land, each strike illuminating the hard, lifeless soil that stretched out ahead of me for miles, each speck of dirt the color of blood.

  Ahead of me, a whirling vortex of wind, sand, gravel and rock twisted up into the sky, lifting everything nearby into the air. Rocks, bones, even boulders flew about, circling the funnel for a moment, only to be sucked into it, and carried up into the clouds, never to be seen again. The vortex claimed everything, and now, as if sensing my presence, it moved toward the mountain, toward the only thing protecting me, if I could even call it that.

  “Welcome back,” a voice boomed across the land, louder than the wind or the thunder. The vibration of the words shook my bones, making me queasy, even though I knew this was only a dream. I cringed and made myself as small as possible, though I suspected this terrible land had no place for me to hide. I don’t know why I thought the rocks would protect me, but I couldn’t imagine that walking out into the open would be any better.