Placing one foot in front of the other was his only goal. His will was strong, and that is how he knew he would survive. He made his way across the clearing and faced the woods that held his private sanctuary in secrecy, and he thanked the stars he did not have to face Baldric in the end. Sebastian understood he likely would not have been able to stand up against him.
The darkness was like a curtain between the woods and the clearing, but he would be able to navigate it easily; he always did. That darkness had enveloped him and that was normal. What struck him as odd was the fact that as he looked around he had not entered the woods yet; the grass of the clearing was still all around him. These things did not register in his slowed mind; his lucid brain did not catch up in time. Then the grass appeared no more, and the only things he felt were the arms of a warm embrace.
chapter THIRTY-SEVEN
THE ENTIRE MONASTERY AWAKENED as monks emerged from many areas of the castle to congregate in the Grand Staircase Hall. The fears of the night had almost been forgotten after seeing the condition of their fellow brothers. The night still reigned, but weapons were thrown to the side and medical supplies were brought forth as everyone worked with only one purpose in mind—to save as many as they could.
Many with lighter injuries paid no attention to them, ignoring any pain or discomfort they might have, realizing they could be in worse condition. The room became an instant ward for the injured. Stretchers had been brought out to keep the injured off of the cold stone floor of the Lonely Tower.
The twins acted as gofers, doing everything and anything they could to be of assistance to the monks. Jacob himself had been tended to by one of the monks who saw him barely able to move about without doubling over in pain; his ribs had taken a major beating. Jessica kept as close to him as she could while still remaining an efficient helper.
Father Dagrun had been the choreographer of things; he was used to doing such but that was normally in his kitchen. He held the same demeanor here and was quite effective. He went over to check on Father Donovan who had been placed on a comfortable stretcher and was being looked over by several monks. Father Dagrun approached and saw that his leader was awake.
“I was hoping you would come about soon; we all were,” the big monk stated eagerly.
“It will take more than a beating from a centuries-old vampire to keep me down,” Father Donovan quipped, smiling as much as he could, considering the pains he was feeling in his old frame.
Father Dagrun gave his first smile of the day, and that appeared to melt away some of the worry from his face. Father Donovan had taken note of that worry and was quick to become more serious and ask those questions that needed answers.
“Where do we stand?” Father Donovan asked evenly. Father Dagrun’s face became serious again, matching that of his old friend. He shook his head and cleared his throat, sorting through everything he had to relay.
“We have taken a heavy hit.” His statements were always ones of simple truth, and Father Donovan knew he could always count on him for that. “As close as we can figure a couple are unaccounted for and several we know did not make the night.” Dagrun never looked Father Donovan in the eyes; instead, he kept his eyes on the ceiling or the floor.
Father Donovan knew names were unimportant because everyone here mattered just as much as the next; their loss would be felt equally by everyone. The only reassurance he felt was knowing that there were survivors, and they had made it through most of the night.
“What of any injured?” the old leader asked. Father Dagrun shook his head again, going over the specific details in his head.
“Most are treatable—bruised, cut and broken, but not life threatening,” Dagrun said, unable to hide the truth of what he didn’t speak of. Father Donovan had caught his friend’s meaning.
“Most?” Father Donovan spoke, knowing there was something more. Father Dagrun paused to collect himself.
“Father Lemoine … is injured pretty badly. He was run through,” he said. “Father Jacques and Father Andrew have been working on him.”
Father Donovan didn’t say anything in response; he only began to sit up with much effort. Father Dagrun protested but was waved off by his stubborn leader and settled on helping him make it to his feet. Slowly walking over to where many were gathered around Father Lemoine, they noticed the piles of bloody clothes surrounding the stretcher. Standing over their friend, they saw him motionless and pale and heavily wrapped in bandages around his entire midsection. One side was red where the bandages were completely soaked through.
“How is he doing?” Father Donovan asked of his two librarian-warrior-medical technicians. They looked at each other; for the first time ever they each waited for the other to say something first. Father Andrew, who was the younger, bowed his head, and Father Jacques, the older and more worn of the two accepted the task of diagnosis.
“He has a very nasty cut that goes all the way through his torso, and he has lost a lot of blood. We have sewn him up and treated him as best as we can. I believe vital organs were missed in the strike; for that much we may be lucky.”
“What chance do you think?” Father Donovan asked. Father Jacques screwed up his face looking for a realistic estimate.
“Fifty-fifty.”
Father Donovan turned to walk away with the assistance of Father Dagrun. He found a place to sit and looked around, seeing the many faces he knew so well, many moving about, some being tended to. Some he did not find.
“Where is he?” Father Donovan turned his questioning face to Father Dagrun and would not let his eyes look away. Father Dagrun understood the question very well, and he knew he didn’t have a good answer for the question. He only had the facts as he knew them.
“We don’t know. He was here when everyone went down. As far as we know he chased Baldric away.” He looked over to the great window and spoke again. “Then he went through the window after him, out there.”
The twins had been eavesdropping on the conversation and were no longer moving or doing much of anything. Father Donovan looked at Jacob and Jessica, thankful for their condition but not the look of grave concern covering their faces. Looking out the busted window, Father Donovan stared at the night that had come into their hall and spoke to himself.
“Out there.”
chapter THIRTY-EIGHT
THE FEELING SEBASTIAN HAD was not an easy one to explain. It was a state of both harmony and fear blended together to form something that has no true description or meaning. Whatever it was, he was ensnared in its complex web. The present is mixed with the past and the future seems to come and go. He wanted to resist but yet he didn’t want it to stop.
The last thing that he truly remembered was something about the ground not being right, and that is when he felt him. When Sebastian finally understood, everything else was too late. Nothing else seemed to matter, and he didn’t really care. This is what he had expected all along, and now that his predictions were coming to pass he was okay with it. Somehow everything made sense.
Sebastian felt his very life ebbing from away; he was being drained of everything that he knew—memory, feelings, wants, and cares. He couldn’t even feel his limbs; he was being held like a lifeless doll.
At first there was darkness everywhere, and then he opened his eyes because they must have been shut. Sebastian wanted to see his world in those last moments, to try to enjoy what he had been given. When he opened his eyes he saw the great sky he loved to sit under and study while Mother Moon gave him enough light to write by. As he shifted his eyes he saw the space he loved so much with the grass getting greener every day and his bench, the bench where he had sat and written in his journal so many times over the years.
Sebastian saw the shadow of the figure that held him and he felt the connection that only one in the embrace can feel. The feeling of contempt is gone and only the welcoming is left; it can’t be stopped. The tug at his body came over and over followed by numbness, a dull slack feeling of complete withdrawa
l.
The feeling was like that of an out-of-body experience. Sebastian almost enjoyed these thoughts; it was odd, but he found his impending death almost enjoyable. He imagined he was smiling, and the only sense he had any control over was his sight, so he took advantage of that gift by looking all around him.
How he would miss this place, but maybe … just maybe … this was where he would come once he was gone. That would be nice. How perfect that Baldric had decided to take him here; Sebastian was thankful. He took in every corner of the clearing that meant so much to him. If he remembered every detail, maybe he could will himself to rest here … the trees, the pond, the benches, his owl … and someone else over there.
Sebastian’s eyes could be playing tricks on him; yes they probably were. There was no one else here, not here, not now, yet the image grew larger. The time and space of things was relative because he had lost the faculties to be able to understand them. The only thing he knew was that this figure had captivated him. He couldn’t think of anything else and could not avert his eyes from it even if he wanted to.
To his delight—and right now everything that caught his sight was a delight—the figure came closer, and Sebastian could see a tall dark shape with big bright and bold red eyes that never left him. He couldn’t look away, and he didn’t want to—how beautiful they were to him. Closer and closer they came till they were just behind him and his captor, who seemed blissfully unaware of their new friend.
The new vision that captivated Sebastian stood there sharing in the moment; how strange and striking he was. Even his sense of vision was coming and going; it came like frames of a film that move too slowly to form a smooth image. His newfound friend was standing there with something over his head, something shiny and bright, catching the dazzling moon’s glow.
Sebastian’s eyes rolled back in his head and his captor, Baldric, brought his head back, taking in the rush of night air. He was not even minutely aware of the figure standing just behind him; had he been he would have been extremely concerned.
That figure stood with the long silver shaft held up over his head and just after Baldric finished with his feeding he brought that shaft of glowing metal down into his back. The moment transformed the entire area as Baldric convulsed. He released Sebastian from his hold and fell to the ground, releasing the most wounded howl the woods had ever heard. The darkness of the area lifted visibly and any animal remaining nearby fled in terror.
Baldric rolled over on his side and his face contorted. He glared up at his attacker standing over him like a giant and whose eyes were fixed on him. The attacker had no visible expression; it was merely a dark silhouette that lorded over him—death himself. Baldric clawed at the ground, attempting to put distance between him and his unknown nemesis. He made his way to the edge of the woods where the shadows grew dark, and then he faded till all you saw were the eyes burning … and then there was nothing.
The figure stood over the motionless Sebastian and watched and waited, gazing at the face that had been so transfixed with his approach. He waited and waited and then he called out.
“Sebastian.”
The figure waited and called out again.
“Sebastian.”
The name reached out to Sebastian and the voice brought him back slowly, like a light in the dark. He knew he wanted to hear that voice again and he searched for it.
“Sebastian.”
Sebastian opened his eyes to see the dark silhouette standing over him and remembered his last waking moments, like trying to retain a dream when you wake in the middle of it. He pieced together enough to know somehow this one had saved him, this shape standing over him. The figure bent over and helped Sebastian lean against a tree and knelt before him. He was just far enough away that Sebastian couldn’t make out any details of his savior. He didn’t need to see any more of this person to know who it was; this was plainly obvious to Sebastian … his Companion had come to his rescue.
“You have a funny way of popping up in strange places. I had dared to think to myself I did not have a guardian angel, only a devil, but now I see I am indeed misguided,” Sebastian managed to say in his weakened state.
“It would appear you are in need of one, but I do not hold myself to that distinction,” the Companion said meekly.
“Oh, I would. I would not hesitate in the least to say that, and I am not forgetting to say thanks. I would have been gone if you had not so fortunately happened along,” Sebastian said with a little sarcasm because he didn’t truly believe his Companion had just happened along. He had been in too many places for this to be coincidence.
“Why are you doing this?” Sebastian asked bluntly. “Why do you care what happens to me? Am I not the one who does not accept who I am? Why should you want me to continue?” Sebastian never understood his Companion and always regarded him cautiously, unsure if he was a friend or foe.
“I do what I want when I want; there is no other reason. Besides, who said I have saved you?” the Companion responded.
Sebastian thought about the situation. He was in no condition to go anywhere and was far from the protection of the castle, and soon the sun would be coming up. An interesting situation considering the fact his savior did not claim to be so and mentioned nothing of getting him home. Sebastian still couldn’t get it out of his head he had saved him; no he was still convinced his Companion didn’t act in his own best interest but in Sebastian’s.
“I will not make it back in time to the monastery,” Sebastian said. His voice shook with weakness.
“No,” the Companion stated agreeing with Sebastian’s assessment. “You are too weak and barely have any blood in you.”
“Will you not help me?” Sebastian asked.
“I will only help you so far as you want to be helped. I have given you this chance for several reasons but only one you will ever know. If you want to die, then all you have to do is sit here and wait. The dawn will come soon enough and then you will see it for the last time.”
“Or?” Sebastian asked simply.
“Or, you can take the blood you need to survive, and you can go on but only with your will to go on. Do you have reason to go on? This is the question we all have to ask ourselves when we reach age that extends beyond. If the answer is no, then that is your time and the sun will greet you. If the answer is yes, then you must do what is necessary to survive this night.” The Companion spoke like a sphinx with a riddle, and Sebastian, in his hazy state, was not in the mood to guess at riddles.
“What do you want of me?” Sebastian asked in exasperation. “Yes, I have reason to go on. I have many reasons to go on.”
The Companion looked Sebastian in the face; his eyes bore into him, searching for something. After a few moments he rose and walked away from Sebastian, who was still leaning against the tree. The figure walked across the clearing and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Sebastian was alone now and went from being saved to being condemned. His Companion had left him, helpless, obviously not convinced of Sebastian’s will.
So he sat and settled himself into his thoughts and began to wait for the dawn that would come. Soon he would see something else besides the moon through the break in the trees; the sky would fill up with the coming dawn, and the light would grow, highlighting the trees, and take away the shadows that formed in between every branch and every leaf, giving them definition like he had not seen in ages. Then the great orb of his fears would rise up over the tops of the trees with a flood of burning light that would sear him to his bones. The experience would be one no one could possibly describe because no one could ever live through that to tell the tale. He knew at least his ashes would be blown over the area of his love, his final wish granted to him without even having to ask anyone to carry it out.
Just as Sebastian was getting used to the idea of his eventual horrific and ultimately excruciating death he spotted movement from the other side of the clearing. His Companion reemerged and was walking towards him, but he was not alon
e—he carried something. He made his way over to him and Sebastian was greatly confused. Had he brought Baldric back to him for some inexplicable reason?
The Companion came to stand before him with the body thrown over his shoulder and stared again at Sebastian. Sebastian was hard-pressed to understand what was going on. Finally he asked.
“Who is this and what is going on? I thought you left me for dead.”
“I am not leaving you for dead. Remember, that is for you to decide,” the Companion stated again.
He then moved closer and bent down to lay the body near Sebastian, who felt like the body looked; he wavered in and out, weakened by everything. When his Companion laid the body down, Sebastian saw that the clothes were familiar. When he turned the body over Sebastian let out a sigh that was a mixture of shock and surprise. He recognized one of his brothers immediately; Father Matthew lay just next to him. Sebastian felt his emotions rise up, and he looked over to his Companion in disbelief.
“Is he dead?” was all Sebastian could ask.
“No, he is not dead.”
“What happened?” Sebastian tried to piece events together.
“These are questions for later. You do not have time, remember,” the Companion reminded Sebastian.
Then realization dawned on Sebastian as he looked from his Companion to Father Matthew, his friend. He understood, even as his mind was working slowly in his near-death state. The only thing that was working harder than his comprehension was his thirst.
“I don’t know if I can do that. He’s my friend.”
“Then he would understand if he is truly your friend. He would not want you to die. I know he wouldn’t.”
“What is wrong with him?” Sebastian asked acknowledging his motionless friend.
“He is unconscious,” Sebastian’s Companion said and turned and began to walk away. Sebastian panicked and made a weak attempt to stand and fell over. He reached out for the Companion.
saint Sebastian the Rose Page 35
