by Guy Antibes
Riders exited the abbey gate and headed toward them. Jack loosened his sword along with the others while they continued to approach.
“Stop where you are,” the monk in the lead said. He wore a black robe with a single feather the length of a hand embroidered on the left breast. “What is your business?”
Rucco raised his gloved hand and rode a little forward. “I am accompanying these people. They are on a mission of mercy and would like to get some information.”
Jack noticed Rucco didn’t mention Grishel’s Feather. If the feather on their chests was the feather he wanted, Jack wondered if they would succeed at all.
“You can’t come any farther. We have been warned of your arrival, so don’t try anything.”
“You were warned by a Black Finger member?”
The monk shook his head. “A visitor from the north.”
Addio had reached the abbey ahead of them.
Rucco had been told the details of their trip so far, so he said, “You trust a hawk-sect monk who travels with an eagle priest?”
The monk’s eyebrows rose. “An eagle priest? The woman?”
“Myra Pulini is a disgraced priestess. She worked with highwaymen in Corand. She was taken to Ullori for penance. The Ullori monk allied himself with the escaped prisoner and the hawk priest. He intends to lead the Black Finger Society in Passoran.”
“You believe this?”
“There are witnesses in my father’s village, but let us talk at a meal. We are tired and hungry from a long day’s ride,” Rucco said.
The monk chewed on his lower lip for a moment before nodding. “You agree to behave?”
Rucco laughed. “Of course. I hope I will be among friends.”
“So do we,” the monk said. He wheeled his horse around, and his men became an escort.
The abbey looked much like a fort, sitting on a spar of rock connected to the rest of the mountain by a bridge, but it wasn’t quite as intimidating as Ullori. Jack could see vegetable gardens on the other side of the monastery that he couldn’t see from his initial vantage point. If a spring was nearby, the monastery could very well be self-sufficient, something Ullori wasn’t.
They trotted into a cobbled courtyard. Monks at their daily tasks looked up curiously as Jack, Helen, Penny, Barria, and Carlo followed the monk detachment to the monastery stable close to one of the walls.
“See to your horses,” the monk said, pointing to a group of empty stalls in a half-filled stable.
Jack noticed that most of the monks didn’t wear gloves and sported the black fingertips that gave their organization its name. He had just helped Penny finish with her horse, when they were called to enter a three-story building sitting at a right angle to a large church. They walked inside and were ushered into a meeting room.
“Wait here,” the monk who led them into the abbey said.
Rucco looked at the door after it was closed. “And hello to you too,” he said, sarcastically. “I know a few monks here. Hopefully, one of them will interview us.”
“They are highly-placed?” Barria asked.
“High enough,” Rucco said. “Patience is all we can exercise right now. Please don’t make things difficult for me.”
Jack realized that Rucco had taken a risk guiding them to the abbey. Jack had blithely accepted the man’s assistance, but he hoped Rucco’s neck wouldn’t be on the chopping block because of it.
Four monks walked in and sat down without saying a word. One of them, the youngest looking, nodded to Rucco. Jack nearly sighed when he saw that. At least the monks knew their guide.
“We have heard nothing good about you,” the oldest of the four began.
The way the other three acted, he must be the senior. He certainly looked it, in Jack’s opinion.
“Then you haven’t been told the full story,” Rucco said. “Why don’t you listen to what they have to say, and then we can talk.”
The four monks looked at each other. All four had black fingers, but in this situation, Jack didn’t know what that meant.
“Jack?” Rucco said.
“You have the boy speak for the group? What about him?” The leader pointed at Carlo.
“Jack is a wizard’s helper, and he and the young girl have been sent on an errand.”
“To steal Grishel’s Feather,” one of the other monks said.
“Not steal,” Jack said. He took a deep breath and told the story. The story lasted a full hour, Jack guessed.
“So you will steal the feather,” one of the monks said.
Rucco’s friend sighed. “Didn’t you just listen to him? He will do what he must to save the lives of his friends. He said he would allow one of us to accompany him into Corand, and then give the feather up to return it to us.”
“Would you agree to three of us accompanying you?” the leader said.
“I will do what I can.” Jack sat back his energy depleted after telling the tale.
“That isn’t what the Ullori prior said. You were out to destroy the Black Fingers and would use Grishel’s Feather to defeat us,” the same monk who objected so much said.
“I thought Grishel’s Feather was meant to heal?” Jack said. “It also requires a female’s touch.”
“You have a female wizard with you.”
“But I’m not—”
“She wouldn’t use it against you,” Jack said.
Rucco nodded his head in agreement. “She couldn’t even do much for my father, other than lift his spirits. Jack is the powerful wizard of the group.”
The leader leaned forward. “You are a bit young to be such an accomplished wizard, regardless of your power.”
“I didn’t say I was accomplished,” Jack said. “I am a helper, but I know only a few spells.”
“He knows enough to create healing objects of power,” Rucco said.
The leader’s eyebrows lifted high on his face. “You do? Can you prove it?”
“Of course I can,” Jack said. “I left eight or so with Rucco’s father before we left his village.”
“This is true?” the leader asked. “Can you create one for me? You would have to do it in my presence.”
Jack nodded. “Hand me something. I can do it now. The healing spell is very simple.”
The four monks laughed.
“No healing imbuements are simple,” Rucco’s friend said.
Jack shrugged. “As I said, I haven’t been taught a lot, but what I know, I can do well.”
The leader whispered in one of the monk’s ears. The man left for a few moments and returned with an ancient-looking metal device. It was a dull, pitted bar of metal about a foot long with an oval cross-section.
“Do it, and I will share with you what Addio Barumi said.” The leader pushed the old device across the table with his finger.
Jack looked at the bar in front of him. He had imbued the healing spell probably one hundred times, and yet this time, he could feel his brow warm up. Jack looked around at everyone looking at him. When he spouted about their errand, he felt completely at ease, but now? Something was wrong with that bar, but Jack couldn’t detect anything.
He took a deep breath and grasped the bar. Jack coughed as he felt power drain from his hand. He dropped the bar.
“This is already an object of power,” Jack said. “It drains power from a wizard, doesn’t it?” He let his hand drop to his knife to get a quick recharge.
“The bar has done its job,” the antagonistic monk said. “He has been drained.”
“I have?” Jack said. “I don’t think so.”
The monk’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. We all know the properties of that object.”
“Have you ever used it on a helper?”
“Helpers don’t exist,” the monk said. “We never believed you were one.”
“Give me something I can use, Rucco. The knife at your side, maybe?”
Rucco nodded. “See if you can put your spell into this.”
He handed it t
o Jack, but Jack gave it to the leader. “Fondle it for a bit,” Jack said with a faint smile. “Does it contain any power?”
The leader grabbed the knife and held it in a few positions. “It definitely isn’t an object of power.”
Jack retrieved the knife and held it by the hilt and concentrated with his hand still on his own knife. He felt the rest of the power leave the knife, go through him, and imbue Rucco’s blade. He sat back and folded his arms. “Test it.” Jack pushed the knife to the leader. “Touch the handle and then touch the blade. Tell me where the spell is imbued.”
The leader looked skeptical but did as Jack said. His expression of suspicion turned into amazement. “It is as he says. How did you do that?”
“You saw me. The trigger word is “Heal.” That is all I said.”
“But even I can’t do this,” the leader said.
“I will imbue twenty items tomorrow, but I have my limitations.”
The leader stared at the metal bar and then at the knife he gave back to Rucco. “A raw talent, then. Have you considered joining the Black Finger Society?”
Jack shook his head. “I am under contract to Fasher Tempest. The Black Finger Society isn’t viewed as positively in Corand.”
“No,” The leader said. “To them, we are the heretics. Our version of the society is under attack.”
“And Addio Barumi would have your version destroyed, I am sure,” Jack said. “What did he tell you?”
The leader smiled. “I promised you, didn’t I? He said you were heretics of the worst kind, that you destroyed the Ullori feather, and all you wanted to do was to accumulate objects of power.”
Jack laughed. “Why would I want to accumulate other objects of power when I can make my own? Besides the Ullori feather restored itself.”
Jack’s declaration created a stir, but that one monk was still unimpressed.
The antagonistic monk responded. “You said you lacked spell knowledge, so what kind of objects could you make that any wizard can’t just spell?”
“The healing spell for one. Can you give an object to a sick person that will provide them with healing energy?”
“Well, no, but I can do other things, like throw wizard bolts.”
“And how many wizard bolts can you produce before your power is gone?”
“Five, six.”
“With an object of power, you can do twenty or more,” Jack said. “I learned to imbue objects that can throw wizard bolts and fire, among a few other things.”
The monk snorted. “No wonder, your mentor hasn’t taught you much. You are a danger to mankind.”
Jack smiled. “I don’t make a habit of attacking people, even if I get angry. I’m old enough to have learned a little restraint.”
“Right,” Penny said to Jack. He nearly winced at the disdain in her voice.
“I can hear you,” Jack told her. His shield must have dropped when the metal rod sapped his power.
“Sorry,” Penny said out loud.
The leader looked at Jack and then at Penny. “Did you just communicate?”
Penny blushed, giving the leader an answer Jack didn’t want him to have.
“Another spell, but there are hundreds or thousands that I don’t know.”
“But that is a Fourth Manipulation,” the leader said. “You say you aren’t accomplished?”
“I’m powerful enough for just about any manipulation, but overall I might know twenty spells, if that,” Jack said. He stood up. “This isn’t about me. It’s about my friends who are ill and probably dying. You know I am a real wizard. I offered to give you a payment for borrowing the feather.”
“Don’t believe him,” the antagonistic monk said.
“Why not?” Rucco’s friend said. “From what I could see, he could kill us all and take it, if it were here.”
“What?” Jack said. “It isn’t here?”
“They don’t call our headquarters Grishel’s Cavern for nothing,” the leader said. “However, you would enter much easier if you carried a document recommending that our leaders hear you. The imbuements will be the price for that.”
Jack sat back down. “I will do what I can to leave Passoran with the feather.” He looked at Rucco and asked, “Did you know this?”
“He wouldn’t know,” Rucco’s friend said. “It isn’t common knowledge. The Ullori monk doesn’t know, even now, and Rucco has never been told. Of course, you will keep the existence of the feather in Grishel’s Cavern amongst yourselves.”
“And to whomever you direct us to,” Helen said.
“Now that is finished, why don’t you take a tour of our monastery? Torlo is acquainted with Rucco. He can show you. It is a bit too early for dinner, and I will want the objects imbued tomorrow before you leave for the cavern.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
~
T orlo seemed to be cast in the same Black Finger mold as Rucco. He wasn’t angry or desperate for objects of power, and he seemed to be just as nice. He showed them the stables, where they had put their horses, but a secret gate led out to the vegetable gardens outside the abbey.
“It is too long to go around,” Torlo said after he closed the gate.
Jack looked behind him and thought the way wasn’t that far to the front. He guessed the monk had just casually shown them a bolthole if things didn’t work out at the monastery. He looked at Helen, who gave him a knowing nod. The two Torito siblings probably caught the significance of their exit, as well.
The vegetables were well on their way. Monks not wearing the black robes were weeding and harvesting and nodded to them as they passed.
“We flood the gardens every three days,” Torlo said. “It can get pretty muddy on the first day, but with the good drainage here, the soil quickly dries enough to walk on.”
Jack took that to mean, “don’t escape through the gardens”. He didn’t know for sure if that was Torlo’s intent, but he would mind the advice, given freely or unintentionally.
They returned inside, walking around to the unguarded front gate. Jack noticed two monk’s sitting underneath little roofs looking out at the countryside.
“Sentries?” Jack asked.
“Watchmen. They keep an eye out for wolves.”
Jack told him a brief version of their wolf experience.
“Without your wizard bolts, the wolves would have prevailed?” Torlo hadn’t wasted any time linking Jack’s wizard bolts to the wolf problem they solved in the mountain pasture of Tesoria.
Helen smiled and touched Jack’s shoulder. “Wolves always prevail if they aren’t culled from time to time. We did some culling.”
“You were with him?”
Helen nodded.
“I can see why your mentor sent you on a difficult errand.”
“We didn’t know it would be this difficult,” Jack said. “The two Passoranian feathers are sealed in glass. Is yours?”
Torlo shrugged. “I didn’t know where the feather was before our abbot told you it was in Grishel’s Cavern.”
They continued to walk. Helen talked to Torlo, and Jack listened. From what Jack could tell, the monks didn’t know very much and seemed a bit secluded from the cavern Black Fingers. They needed to talk to Rucco about that.
The church was their last stop before a meal with the monks. A gilded figure of Grishel stood at the end of the nave behind a lectern for sermons. Jack noticed the tips of Grishel’s feathers were black. He looked at Torlo’s robe and realized he hadn’t noticed that the single feather had a black tip as well, hidden somewhat by being black embroidery thread on the black robe. He wondered if the feather the Black Society held had a black tip or not.
“Do you adhere to the eagle sect or the hawk sect?” Carlo asked.
“Neither,” Torlo said. “We practice our own version of Grishel worship. Something more appropriate for Black Fingers.”
They sat for a moment in the empty church. “Is the schism between abbey and cavern getting worse since I’ve been gone?�
�� Rucco asked.
Torlo faced the door. He still looked around. “The Ullori prior will only make it worse. While you were visiting your father, we learned there were many Black Fingers killed in Tesoria, and that has incensed a faction of our brothers and sisters. It isn’t bad in the abbey, but it is becoming much worse in the cavern. You will have to watch yourself, my friend.”
Rucco looked at the group. “You will have to be careful, as well,” he said to Jack. “All of you. Watch what you say and what you do.”
“Will they try to convert us?” Jack said.
“There has been talk,” Torlo said. “I’m not so sure the feather is in the cavern, to be honest, but the abbot said you will have to go there. He is still neutral, as far as I know.”
Jack shook his head with amazement at how hard this was going to be. “What the abbot said was true, though?”
“He is angry at the Ullori monk. He passed the hawk priest and the woman off as his assistants. We don’t appreciate lies. We are Grishel’s monks, after all.”
“They were the only ones left after trying to kill us,” Helen said. “Addio brought guards with him from Ullori when he escaped. There weren’t enough.”
Torlo looked at Jack and nodded. “Stay wary.”
With those two “encouraging” words, Torlo rose and led them to the refectory. Dinner was a casual affair, but it began and ended in a single hour.
They walked in during the last half hour of the evening meal. Penny had a hard time eating so fast, but the others encouraged her. Jack ate a huge portion. He needed the nourishment after his experience with the monastery’s odd object of power.
After dinner when they were shown to the visitors’ dormitory, Jack turned in early and thought about the object. He figured that such a thing would be an advantage for whoever brought the object to a wizard fight, if they could get close enough to their opponent. Even with his power, Jack had barely hung on to avoid being drained when he touched the thing.