“Hey!” She glared at him and tried to pull away, but he jerked her close and clapped his hand over her mouth again.
“If you give us away, we’re both dead,” he whispered and was gratified to see fear in her eyes. He didn’t release her until she nodded.
The wariness that crept back across her face stung him, but he had no choice. She would inadvertently give them away if she wasn’t careful. She needed to be afraid. Her words were barely audible. “You’re hurting me.”
He let her go and glanced down; an angry red mark encircled her wrist from where he had gripped her. His cheeks flushed with shame, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “Do you understand, Lindsay? We must be quiet.”
Lindsay rubbed her wrist and nodded.
“Good, now move quickly.”He guided her behind the huge rock where it jutted over the ground to form a ledge. The bright gym bag went in first, and he shoved it deep into the crevice. He motioned for Lindsay to hide beneath the stone.
She scooted into the crevice. “What about you?”
He put his pack beside her. “You said you would trust me.”
The horse snorted, and Lucian looked toward the trail, then back to the girl. Lindsay’s anxiety became palpable. A special bond formed between foundlings and their Elders and already Lindsay was becoming sensitive to his emotions. He wished he could say something to wash the fear from her eyes. “Don’t move until I come and get you.”
Her head moved up and down once.
A talisman, he thought, something for her to hold and believe in. He had nothing to give her.
Only he did.
He reached into his breast pocket and removed his Psalter. He pressed it into her small hands. “I need your help, Lindsay.”
Surprised at the sudden gift, she gripped the small book and opened her mouth.
He shook his head. “Listen. This is something very old and very magical. Close your eyes, hold the book tight, and pray to whatever god you worship that we get away safely. Can you do that?”
She nodded and held the Psalter close to her chest.
Satisfied a small portion of her fear had diminished, he left her. He went to the side of the rock where he could see the road without being seen. Only when he was out of her sight did he unsheathe Matthew’s sword.
Several minutes passed before the soldier’s mount ambled into view. The man wore Catarina’s livery and her raven seal. Lucian didn’t recognize him. The soldier rode with the sloppy abandon of someone on an afternoon jaunt rather than a hunt.
Why not? In their minds, Lucian was nothing more than Catarina’s crippled brother, a ghost. They believed they had only to show themselves and he would fall subservient at their feet. They forgot that he was once Katharos.
Are Katharos, Matthew’s voice whispered. You are Katharos; God remains on his throne. The memory of the priest’s words poured courage into Lucian’s heart. He would teach them to taste the fear that had soured his palate for the last ten years.
The horse would be a boon if he could take the man and leave the mount, but he needed a distraction. He bent and picked up a rock big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Several feet away, the ground dropped to form a deep ravine. The soldier would be forced to dismount in order to investigate.
Not believing the plan would work, Lucian nonetheless threw the stone into the gully. The rock snapped a dead branch from a tree.
Horse and rider perked up at the sound. The guard drew his blade as he rode past Lucian’s hiding spot. Surely no one was so stupid as to fall for that trick. To Lucian’s amazement, the man dismounted and lashed the reins to a strong limb. He didn’t raise the alarm to any cohorts as he gazed down into the foliage.
In his sister’s house, Lucian had learned to move silently to avoid notice. Now, quiet as the specter he once was, he crept forward until only a few feet separated him from the guard. He had no choice but to thrust his blade into the man’s back. He struck below the soldier’s left shoulder blade and drove the steel upward into the man’s heart before he withdrew the sword. For one terrifying moment, Lucian was afraid the man would scream. Instead, the soldier dropped to the ground without a cry.
Lucian crossed himself. There would be no absolution for this cold murder, and though it wasn’t his first, he despised the slaughter. This killing would cling to him no less for being necessary.
Careful as he was, he still had blood on his hands when he finished cleaning his sword on the man’s cloak. Lucian rolled the soldier’s body to the bottom of the ravine where it stopped, mercifully face down. A short prayer and a wave of his hand brought forward a small breeze to blow fluttering leaves over the corpse. Within minutes, the soldier was covered in a shallow grave.
The horse snorted and pulled against its reins before Lucian gentled the beast with a touch. He gave the mare soothing images of the herd and a fertile field. Whether it was from opening the Gate or his newfound confidence, he felt God’s Spirit return to his limbs. Acts that had once taken the greatest deliberation to accomplish were returning to him as second nature. The animal calmed, and he led it to the rock where he had left Lindsay.
Face gray with fear, Lindsay huddled beneath the outcropping. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth moved silently while she hugged his Psalter.
“Lindsay.”
She jumped and bumped her head on the rock. “Are they gone?”
“He’s gone, but keep your voice low. There may be others nearby. Come out and don’t forget your bag.”
She scrambled out from beneath the rock and gave him his Psalter, then stepped back out of his reach. Without getting too close to him, she snagged the strap of her bag. Her guarded actions made Lucian wonder if she saw him kill the soldier. How would he explain the need for such a murder to her? She rubbed her wrist again, and he remembered grabbing her.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he returned the Psalter to his pocket. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well,” she glanced down at his pack, which still rested by the ledge. She leaned over, snatched it off the ground, and handed it to him. “You scared me. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
She gazed into his eyes and he was sure she examined his words and intent with the same deliberation as any Citadel judge. She sighed and pulled her hair band free, twisted her long hair back into a ponytail and secured it once more. “It’s okay, I guess.” Her eyes lit up and she pointed over his shoulder. “How’d we get a horse?”
“God is with us.”
She forgot her fear of him and went to the mare, stroking the horse’s nose and murmuring to her. “My friend Cindy has a horse.”
“Have you ridden before?” He secured his pack to the saddle, then held his hand out to her.
“Dad let me ride in the Cindy’s corral but that’s all. Are we both going to ride?”
“Two people, one horse.” He shrugged and patted the mare’s neck. “She is a strong mare; she’ll carry us. We really need to get moving, though. In case there are more soldiers.”
Lindsay went to the side of the horse and allowed him to lift her until she could get her foot in the stirrup.
Lucian mounted behind her and indicated that she should grasp the pommel. “Hold tight in case we have to go fast.”
He felt her nod through her hood as he wrapped his mantle around her, more to obscure her from prying eyes than to keep her warm. He listened and thought he heard someone call out. Lindsay went rigid in front of him, but after several moments, no other sound penetrated the Wasteland’s silence.
She tensed against him again when he guided the horse onto the deer path that had once been called the Great Road. When he kept the beast to a slow walk, Lindsay relaxed. Each hoof-strike against the earth sounded like thunder to him. Walking gave them the advantage of stealth, but Lucian couldn’t move quickly on foot, and Lindsay’s presence changed everything. The girl needed to be away from him as soon as possible.
The Council
wouldn’t allow him to foster this child. It would be better for them both if he remained emotionally detached and turned her over to Rachael before Lindsay’s powers started to develop. With the horse and good weather, they would meet Rachael within four or five days; soon enough for Rachael to form a fostering bond with the youngster.
Lucian rode for the better part of an hour without seeing or hearing anyone else; he hoped the man had been a forward scout. He kicked the horse to a trot. His confidence rose until they reached a clearly defined crossroad. He reined the horse to a stop.
“Why are we stopping?” Lindsay whispered, and her pulse fluttered bird-like beneath her wrist.
“I’m not sure of the way.” The trees and clouds obscured the sun so he couldn’t easily tell the direction; the signposts had long ago deteriorated. Lucian had never approached Ierusal from this route. Examining the dull sunlight again, he guessed the southeasterly road would go left. He reined the horse in that direction, but the beast became skittish and danced back to the center of the crossroad.
Examining the road and the woods beyond, he didn’t see anything that should have caused their mount anxiety. He tried the road to the right, and the horse exhibited an even more violent reaction.
“What’s the matter with her?” Lindsay’s knuckles were white from her grip on the pommel.
“I don’t know.” Once more he calmed the animal with a touch and guided the beast to the road before them. The horse plodded along docilely.
Lucian looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a ghostly figure with a halo of white hair and mischievous eyes. He wheeled their mount in time to see a man’s image fade into the early afternoon mist. He could have sworn the ghost winked at him with the same knowing wink Matthew Kellogg had given him in the church.
Lindsay twisted to look up at him. “Is everything okay?” Her hood fell back to reveal her white-gold hair.
“Fine. We’re fine now.” He guided the horse back to their original route. “I’m sure of it.” Twice more, he looked over his shoulder before they rounded a bend and the crossroad was out of sight.
“Can we talk now?” Lindsay asked.
“Of course, but softly.”
“Where were we, you know, in that place where you found me?”
“You mean Hell?
“No shit? That was Hell?” She twisted again, her eyes wide.
“Don’t swear, Lindsay. And yes, that was Hell.”
She blushed and faced forward. “Wow.”
“You’re in Woerld now.” They passed an open field on their right where a lone hut hunkered at the edge of the wood. The door hung askew and vines wrapped the frame. It was the first physical evidence he had seen that humans once lived here.
Lindsay leaned over his arm to examine the abandoned home. “Are we the only people here?”
“No. There was great war here many years ago and it made the country uninhabitable. We call it the War of the Great Schism, because the Seraph of the Zoroastrian bastion withdrew from the Council of Seraphs.” The same type of schism that his sister hoped to promote within the Citadel, but Lucian didn’t see the point in telling the child. She was too young to understand the delicate balancing act that the Seraphs maintained to keep the peace between their various religions so they could focus on their common enemy, the Fallen. “There are a lot people in Ra’anan. That’s where we’re going.”
“Pete’s there, right?”
“Yes.” He hoped the boy was all right.
“Pete and I were just walking home. How did we get here?”
“You and your brother passed through the Crimson Veil.”
“I remember that—Crimson Veil—but I don’t know what it means.” She sighed as she turned her head to take in the forest around them. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“It will become easier. We’ll take it in small steps and start with the Veil. The Crimson Veil shields Earth from Woerld. It’s like a curtain that only becomes visible at certain times.”
“Why?”
“Did you ever go to church, Lindsay?”
She took the band from her hair. “Dad always called us C and E Episcopalians.”
“Church of England?”
She gathered her hair back into a ponytail and popped the band in place. “Christmas and Easter.”
He smiled, and the expression felt strange on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled or even laughed. “Did you ever hear about the war in Heaven between God and Satan?”
“Yeah, God won and put Satan and all the angels that followed him into Hell. My dad said it was bullshit the preachers used to scare everybody into giving them money.”
Lucian winced. He could tell from Lindsay’s tone that she probably believed her father’s worldview on religion. “I’m afraid your father is wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a distrustful glance.
“There really was a war in Heaven, and here in Woerld, we call those evil angels the Fallen. The Fallen Angels want to take over Woerld so they can move through the Veil to conquer Earth. Then they intend to storm Heaven’s Gates. It’s a matter of strategy. They consolidate their forces and solidify their positions on one level, then move to the next, invariably cornering Heaven’s host.”
Lindsay was silent for several minutes before she said, “That’s insane.”
“It makes perfect sense. I’ll show you.” He reined the horse to a halt and dismounted, grinding his teeth against the pain in his leg when he put his weight on it. He leaned on his cane until he could walk the stiffness from his knee. “Come down.”
“What for?” She tightened her legs around the horse’s sides and narrowed her left eye at him.
“I want to show you something.” When she still didn’t move, he sighed and looked off into the woods. This was his fault; if he hadn’t hurt her back at the rock, she wouldn’t be so cautious of him. Yet every second he wasted trying to explain Woerld to her was another second Speight and his men drew closer to them.
Lucian kneaded the head of his cane and tried to still his anxiety. With or without Speight hunting him, he had to teach Lindsay the rudiments of Woerld. Otherwise, she would be ill prepared when her talents started to emerge, and that could make her as dangerous to him as Catarina. “Lindsay, please.”
“All right, all right.” She slipped off the horse gracefully and stood just out of his reach. “Now what?”
“Watch.” He used his cane to draw four circles in the dirt and connected them with lines. “Now.” He pointed to the bottom circle. “Pretend this is Hell.”
She glanced at him and edged closer to better see his crude outline.
He pointed to the next ring. “This is Woerld. Woerld stands between Hell and Earth.” He pointed to the fourth ring. “Heaven encircles us all. Each dimension exists parallel to the other.” He glanced at her, but she seemed absorbed in the diagram. “The Fallen Angels are trapped in their prison behind the Hell Gates, which are another form of—”
She shook her head. “I’m not getting any of this.”
Lucian examined his diagram; he didn’t know how he could possibly simplify the matter. All he had given her so far were the bare essentials. He hadn’t begun to explain how the chaos of Hell could shift time to run faster or slower. Nor would Lindsay understand the Celestial Court’s ability to create rifts in the timespace continuum to link Elders and foundlings who were perfectly suited for one another. How could he when even Woerld’s greatest mathematicians failed to find the calculations to explain how time worked?
Lucian stifled his irritation and listened for Catarina’s soldiers. The mare nosed the ground and found a rare patch of grass to nibble; otherwise, the Wasteland was quiet. All Lindsay needed to know was how she came to Woerld. He pointed the tip of his cane to the circle that represented Earth. “You started out here. And you passed through what we call the Crimson Veil.” He dragged the tip of his cane along the line connecting Earth to Woerld. “Into Woerld. The
Veil closed behind you.” He closed the blurred line between Earth and Woerld. “You passed through a weakened Hell Gate and into Hell.” He pushed the tip of his cane into the circle representing Hell. “I went in and brought you back into Woerld.” He moved his cane to represent their journey.
“This is closed now?” She pointed to the line symbolizing the Veil.
“That’s correct. The Veil only opens for a brief amount of time. It never allows anyone or anything from Woerld to pass through to Earth. It’s like a great fence that keeps the Fallen from their objective.”
“You’re saying I can’t go back to Earth?” Lindsay’s lower lip trembled, but she didn’t lose her composure.
He nodded. “I’m afraid that’s so. We can never go back.”
“But my mom,” she whispered and her voice trailed off. Lindsay twisted her fingers in her ponytail as she contemplated the meaning of his words. “Oh, shit, this is bad.”
“Lindsay, I’m sorry.” Lucian reached out to her.
She stepped away from him; her distrust was back. “Nevermind. Pete’s good at this stuff. He’ll find a way home.”
“You can’t go back, Lindsay. I wanted to go home. I still haven’t found a way.”
“Yeah, well, Pete’s smarter than you.” She crossed her arms and thrust her chin at him, daring him to contradict her.
Lucian relinquished the argument to her for the time being. Very few foundlings initially believed they would never go home. Perhaps that hope sustained them in their early years in Woerld. Lucian knew his dream of finding a way back through the Veil had nourished him through his first days. Whether Lindsay believed him or not was irrelevant at this point. Time would teach her the truth.
She studied the diagram for several minutes. “So what made the Veil open? And why did Pete and I pass through it? Why not a cat or a dog that was walking by?”
“It has to do with the Fallen.”
“You keep going back to those fallen angels.”
“Exactly. You see the Hell Gates are sealed, but seals can be broken. The Fallen want to break free from Hell so they can overrun Woerld. Some of the Fallen were once archangels. Once free of the chains that hold them in Hell, these fallen archangels believe they can force their way into Woerld. Here in Woerld, the various bastions that represent Earth’s religions work together. Each religion has very special talents and the Katharoi of these religions understand the spells to keep the Fallen out of Woerld. But we must work together. Otherwise, the Fallen will take over Woerld and once they solidify their position in Woerld, their next goal is Earth.
Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 8
