“Where are they looking for us?”
“They split up into several groups, fanning out in all directions to cover as much area as possible. The terrain can be difficult. There is only one real road that leads here. One group went to the township on that road; your father is with that group.”
“I don’t think we need any more adventure,” Jessica scoffed.
“But nobody went far in the direction of the priory; they didn’t think Sebastian would go there,” Father Matthew responded.
“Why would they think he would go to a completely ruined fifteenth century church, with almost nothing left but a graveyard and a small crypt?” Jacob thought that was a preposterous proposition anyway. He knew why they had gone there, but why would someone else, not knowing what had happened to them, think of such an event?
Going through the Grand Staircase Hall and heading straight for the armory, Father Matthew was running various scenarios in his head of what he should do now.
“We were thinking of anyplace three teenage kids would go when there is nothing much else available to them.”
The twins did not appreciate his tone and the jab about their age, since Father Matthew was not much older.
Entering the armory, the twins took note of Father Matthew and his obvious plan.
“Why aren’t you out there looking as well?” Jessica asked, realizing he was the only monk they had seen in the castle. He shot around, appearing to be not in a very good mood and said, “Someone had to stay behind just in case you showed up.”
Father Matthew turned back around to the cabinet he was opening and began sifting through large drawers, which held what Jacob soon realized to be crossbow bolts, and really heavy ones.
“You never asked us about the attack,” Jacob said.
“Why do you think that I am coming here to gather some things then?”
“But you aren’t curious?” Jacob played along. Father Matthew was all over the room gathering items for here and there.
“I am very curious, and I aim to find out everything eventually, but right now time is of the essence and far too much has gone by.”
“What time is it?” Jessica asked.
“You know you two should really start wearing watches; it really helps with those simple questions. But to answer your question, it’s late—nearly four o’clock,” Father Matthew answered.
“Where are we going?”
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
“What?” Jacob blurted.
“We have to!” Jessica added.
“You have to stay here in case anyone else comes back and tell them what you have told me. Do you understand?”
Jacob wanted to protest but understood.
“You are going by yourself?” Jessica asked, a little startled, and looked at her brother. Jacob looked at her as well and understood her fear for Father Matthew.
Father Matthew gathered many items as if going off to war and left the room with the twins following closely.
“You have to stay here. You should be fine here by yourselves. No one ventures here by chance, and there should be others back soon.”
Father Matthew made his way to the center courtyard when Jacob swallowed hard and steadied himself.
“They were vampires,” he said, hoping Father Matthew would take him seriously.
Father Matthew stopped; he lowered his head a little as if slightly defeated. He turned and looked the twins dead in the eye with a seriousness they had not yet seen from any of the friendly monks they were now so fond of. He marched back to them to stand a short distance.
“Who told you this?”
“Sebastian,” Jessica said.
“What did he tell you? You must tell me if there is anything you have left out,” the frustrated monk’s expression told volumes.
“He did not tell us much, just that they were vampires who had attacked us,” Jacob answered.
“How many?” Father Matthew quizzed.
“We only saw four. Two Sebastian fought and two who came after us that someone else killed,” Jessica responded. Father Matthew swayed a little at the gravity of the statement.
“Four! Two by Sebastian’s hand and two by someone else?” He looked up to the sky, knowing time was growing short.
“Stay here and when Father Donovan comes, tell him what you have told me. Tell them I have gone to the old priory. Hopefully, they will not be long.”
“Why are you going there? Sebastian isn’t there,” Jacob asked.
“It was the last place you saw him, yes? Then that is where I will begin my search. If the hour gets late and no one has shown up, you must go inside. Go back to the armory. There behind a case of weapons, you will find a safe room. You should be able to lock yourselves inside and no one will be the wiser.” Father Matthew turned to leave.
Jacob suddenly had an idea. “Shall we take up your watch on top of the tower until dark?” Father Matthew turned to acknowledge the young man with new respect.
“Take up the post and look for the others. You will find a closet before you get to the roof. In it you will find a flag. The flag is red with an emblazoned cross on it; you must set it atop the tower. If dusk is approaching, do not linger. Do not wait till the darkness comes. If the sun’s rays no longer reach, then you are in danger. Do not be fooled by the lingering light after sunset. They do not fear this much; only the light from the sun’s rays will keep them away.”
With this said, he was off with no more distractions. The twins watched him walk away and looked to the sky and then to each other. Suddenly they felt very alone and very scared.
Standing on top of the tower, the twins looked in every direction, searching for any of the monks returning from their journey. The beauty of the scene was not lost on the two, just lessened by the weight that burdened their minds. The flag was waving in the air and the sun was making its way toward the horizon in the west. Jessica wondered how far Father Matthew had gone; he was chasing the sun, she knew, for the old priory lay directly to the west. The sun appeared to her to be on a collision course with the priory, a focal point for something, she felt, but what she didn’t know.
chapter SEVENTEEN
THE DARKNESS OF THE ROOM and the darkness of his thoughts had lulled Sebastian to sleep. The floor was hard and cold; he woke wondering if his dreams had returned. He wasn’t sure because he couldn’t remember what he had dreamt, and for that he was thankful. Maybe his internal clock was telling him the time was near.
Sebastian sat up, almost hoping there was someone there to put him out of his misery. What a predicament he was in. So much time goes by without anything and then without notice, all of the paths come together in one intersection.
He wondered how his new friends were doing. Had they made it back to the monastery okay? Were they on their way? He almost hoped that no one would come. How he could put his friends in such danger he could not comprehend even now.
Weary of his thoughts, Sebastian stood up to stretch the chill out of his limbs. How he missed his beloved fireplace. Would he ever again feel the warmth of his hearth and the comfort of his reading chair? He knew some time would pass before he could enjoy those comforts again. Good and bad times had come and gone; he understood that now was the start of a bad time.
Sebastian walked around the small crypt, trying to occupy his mind. He had not been in here for a very long time. Actually, he avoided this place, almost blocking it from memory. For almost fifty years he had not ventured here, and maybe longer still since he had descended into the small crypt.
The age of the place showed clearly, for most of the fancy decorations had long been lost to time, disaster, and passerby. The only things remaining were the heavy sarcophagus and the writings chiseled in the walls. Sebastian tried as he could to translate some of them, more out of habit than curiosity.
His bad thoughts departed as he immersed himself in the writings of his small prison. Much of what was said was the story of its inhabitant. Sebastian re
ad on, his curiosity drawing him into the story.
Something was nagging at him. He read on and on. There was something there in the writing. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but there were allusions to something he knew—events and dates and places. Why did some of these inscriptions make sense to him? He grew more curious as he read, but he soon realized something else. He knew it was time, actually past time. He had been so caught up in what he was discovering in the old crypt he had let some time slip by—precious time, he worried.
Sebastian looked to the bottom of the door and saw no sign of the light that had been there earlier. A wave of panic washed over him. Would he still be alone?
Sebastian pulled on the door without hesitation, making the heavy mass swing wide. As he climbed the stairs, he was not surprised to find the light of day was all but gone and darkness reigned, but for the light of the rising moon. In the great hulk of the shell of the old priory he stood alone in the darkness with the streaks of moonlight shooting in, making him feel as though he were on a stage.
From inside he could see the cool night air had clashed with the warmth of the day and formed a hanging fog. Outside the walls of the ruin he could see the glow of the fog from the moonlight, his nighttime friend peeking out from the slowly moving clouds.
Sebastian let his senses reach out from him, taking in the night, the chill, the fog, and the sounds that came in the distance as he moved from the protective walls to the lawn in front of the priory. Many times over the course of his life Sebastian had seen a setting like this one. How perfect, he thought.
The array of tombstones flickering in and out of the fog seemed to move with life in between the old markers—old markers he would stay away from if at all possible. No, he would make no effort to search their faces out of any curiosity or need. He looked back to the façade of the old church and marveled at the vision of the edifice in the night, both beautiful and menacing at the same time.
Sebastian knew he had lingered too long. His senses told him he was not alone. Turning back to the lawn he locked eyes with someone he did not know. Was this his Companion come to visit him again?
The answer came quickly. No. Without saying a word, the form moved forward with barely any movement at all. Sebastian knew this was something entirely different. Even though the figure seemed familiar like his Companion, this one was taller and there came from it a presence he had not felt in a long time.
The eyes alone told a story he did not wish to know. They were bright under the hood of the cloak, not red so much, but brilliant, and they bore through Sebastian like the rays of the sun.
The image was frightening. The figure seemed abnormally tall, and the fog looked as if it billowed from him. Sebastian knew there was no escape from someone like this. He would have to use his head if he were to survive what he assumed would be his final death.
With no warning or provocation and with supreme agility, the figure leapt into the air toward Sebastian. There was a quick glint in the moonlight—a sword had been drawn in a flash.
Sebastian reacted with his own reflexes, able to draw his sword and hurtle himself toward his combatant. In midair the two met with the flash of metal and the ring of steel as they passed each other and landed, each standing their new ground. Their blades were ready over their heads. The air carried the tune of those fine blades with a ringing that went on and on.
The stalemate was broken as his enemy lowered his blade in a non-threatening position and ran his hand along the blade, silencing the melodious tone. With great strides of purpose the stranger advanced toward him and Sebastian knew the gesture of the dropped sword was only the casualness and confidence of a great wielder. The fight had just begun.
The distance closed and Sebastian made no move; he would let this one make the moves necessary for the attack. His hope was to figure out his opponent, to form a defense and possible victory, or at least a retreat.
Their eyes were fixed, and there was no glancing at the weapons. They would find each other: the eyes were the most important. The stranger lunged, bringing his blade in straight to Sebastian’s chest. Bringing his sword up to parry, the metal rang out again, but this time there was no separation. Their faces met, only inches from one another, eyes burning into each other, speaking as no words could.
A battle of strength was being played out. They seemed not to move, completely inanimate, like marble statues locked in some titanic struggle from the past that was being commemorated.
Sebastian could feel the power behind the weapon. He knew how good he was with the sword; he had studied the art since he could lift a blade. Confidence had always played a big part in his success; his father had taught him that. But Sebastian knew the wielder of the other blade had not reached the limit of his strength; he could feel the minute flexing. He was being toyed with, and he did not like it.
The problem with vampires is as it always has been—they live forever. So they have forever to learn things. Vampires become very knowledgeable, if not very smart, and that can be almost as dangerous. Another thing about vampires is that they grow stronger with age. They do not grow weak; rather they are like old trees that become hard to the core.
Sebastian knew this vampire was stronger than him. He did not know if that was the result of old age or if he’d had an old and powerful maker: either would do. Both would make his strength incalculable.
Their surroundings fell away from them as their focus centered on one another, but Sebastian knew his opponent was waiting for him to make a move. This vampire was smart. Sebastian cursed the situation, knowing his opponent knew this as well. This was a game of chess. He had forgotten that in chess, you have to play moves ahead of a smart opponent to win. Sometimes the game is already over, and you don’t even know it.
Sebastian was rehearsing in his head several moves that he had worked on over the years. He knew his enemy had already worked out how to take him down from this position.
Giving only at the knees, Sebastian dropped backward from the stranger, falling with him since his force was unabated, and Sebastian had given up the test of strength.
Sebastian rolled backward, throwing his feet up to catch his adversary in the stomach, launching him in the air.
Sebastian turned into a crouch position instantly to watch the body flying through the air land gracefully, one foot at a time. He had more than expected this.
This time it was his turn. Sebastian walked forward with the same intensity and purpose as his adversary had toward him. He was going to kill this one and make it such a killing he would wish he had an audience to watch the splendor of the attack and gasp at the carnage that would take place.
***
Father Matthew was cursing himself, which was not his normal way. How he would have to pray later for the things he was saying now. The darkness had come; his journey was near its end. Time he feared was at its limit. He knew the distance should not be far. Father Matthew had been this way before, but that had been long ago, and his mind was filled with his worst fears.
The fog was thicker and the trees were fewer. The slope of the hill grew and his sense of where he was set off alarms in his head. He had arrived, hoping Sebastian had stayed put. The instructions Sebastian had given the twins could only mean he would be here.
His fear kept growing, and the cursing below his breath did not cease. Even with his haste Father Matthew slowed, realizing the potential danger of being seen by those he wished to remain hidden from.
As he silently crept between the trees, he heard the ringing cut the air. His breath coming in great heaves, he quickened his step till he came to the edge of a clearing. The lawn laid out before him like so many of the nights in the area, crisp night air and moonlight overhead. The difference was the other aspects of the scene.
His friend was alive. This fear was diminished, but another rose up like the tombstones from the fog. His friend was locked in combat with a foe he did not know. With all of his being he wanted to rush to Sebas
tian’s aid, but what could he do? Father Matthew stared, transfixed by what he was watching. The battle seemed locked and the two combatants scrutinized each other for the longest time.
His confidence was reassured when Sebastian broke the deadlock and tossed his opponent over him with great force. A voice in his head screamed at Sebastian to run and save himself. Obviously Sebastian had not heard him; he saw him march with steadiness towards the stranger and Father Matthew felt a panic rise in his stomach.
He also felt something else, a hand slide around his throat to grasp him tight. The hand was cold, cold as the grave, and he knew the game was up for him. How stupid he had been.
***
The stranger took note of Sebastian’s approach and cocked his head to the side to consider his opponent carefully. The other thing he noticed were Sebastian’s eyes: how they burned. They were a brilliant icy blue that seemed to just sparkle. He knew this was a new opponent and one worthy of his sword.
Sebastian stepped forward with the force of an invading army, and the menacing figure spread his arms out wide, showing the span of his reach, which was heightened by the blade that extended from his long arms.
As he came nearer Sebastian took note of the great wingspan, extended like a welcoming hug from a family member who has been absent for a long time and wishes to embrace a loved one.
This was no loved one and the sight did not deter him. He knew this was only a ploy to discourage and scare any who would dare to advance.
Sebastian broke into a run and with both hands on his rapier he sliced up with all of his might at the stranger who looked as though he did not even care or prepare for the approach, but the strike was met with a blade that had been brought deftly back. This did not concern Sebastian; his mind was set, and he let himself go as he had not done in decades.
His blade went back and forth, slicing and parrying attacks from his adversary with blinding speed. Down low he went after bringing the stranger’s sword up high and forcing him into a leap above the blade that surely would have taken his legs.
saint Sebastian the Rose Page 15
