Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  The guards looked curiously and accusingly at the merchant.

  “Well, before or after he handed me the knife, I don’t remember.” The merchant winced as he realized he had just tipped his hat and handed the argument to the boy. “Look, lad, I’ll not only give you… oh… six gold for the dagger, I’ll also replace it with a less fancy but just as sturdy one.” He looked at the guards hopefully, as the town watch in New Portsmouth was known for brutality.

  “Lad?” said the older guard.

  David considered the proposition for a moment. It was far better than he had expected, but he wanted to see the merchant sweat a bit. “Eight gold! And only if I like the new knife.”

  The merchant, anxious to get rid of the town watch, produced one of his best knuckle daggers. It was completely nondescript, yet extremely sharp, sturdy, and completely unused. David put his fingers through the holes in the hilt and gripped the dagger, nodding.

  David nodded. “Alright, then. Give me the gold, you ill-smelling rogue!”

  The merchant handed David the eight coins. “There, now be on your way.”

  David smiled smugly at the merchant and placed the coins in his pocket. The younger watchman pulled a rag out of his belt and spat on it.

  “Here, hold still, lad.” The guard wiped off David’s face, right below his nose and on his chin. Given the amount of dried blood that came off, and the dark pink taint on the cloth, David figured he must have looked a dreadful mess. The guard continued for a few minutes like a well-meaning nurse, and David couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed.

  “There we go, lad. I’d say good as new, but those black eyes and that shiner are going to take some time to heal up there, and that gash across your cheek, too.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said David. He put the knife in its leather scabbard, which he placed upon his belt. Besting the thieving merchant gave him a bit of his confidence back. Maybe he should try for some serious payback, he thought. “Sir,” he said to the watchmen as they started to stroll away, “Where can I find the Salt Spray Inn?”

  The two watchmen glanced at each other with eyes raised. “A lad your age? You want to go to that rogues’ den?”

  David gingerly touched his bruised eye. “Let’s just say I have some unfinished business to take care of there.”

  The older man looked doubtful. “Well, don’t you go getting into any more fights on my shift laddy. But if it’s the Salt Spray you want, just go to the north end of the docks. It will be right across the street from where the Waverunner is moored.”

  David smiled as much as his pained mouth would let him. It was time to show these ruffians what it meant to betray a Ki Kalendeen.

  * * * * * *

  “Brother Gabriel!” The brown-robed deacon, one of the personal staff of Arch Bishop Leones, stood at the university main gate, waving over the growing crowd that was slowly moving into the outer courtyard. “Brother Gabriel!” he screamed again, at the top of his lungs, his voice once again drowned out. The gray haired Brother Kenneth waved frantically, and finally caught the young initiate’s eye.

  Gabriel made his way through the murmuring crowd, catching parts of sentences about an invasion. From the bits he had heard, he figured the Caledonian / Gylinian army had forced its way past the Elgannan lines and was on its way. A siege of the city of Avonshire would be terrible, but everyone had expected that it would someday come to pass. The Church was officially neutral in the war, but being placed on the south bank of the Coldar River, and being within the Avonshire city walls, a siege would starve the University and Cathedral just as it would the rest of the city.

  Brother Kenneth forced his way against the flow of the crowd and finally managed to grasp Gabriel’s arm. “Brother Gabriel, the Templar Majoris, the Arch Bishop, Bishop Sentius, and his advisors wish to see you and your sister immediately!”

  Gabriel stopped dead, causing a disturbance in the crowd as people tried to get around him. “What? Surely you are mistaken! Why would they want to see us?”

  “I don’t know. I was told to deliver the message, that is all.”

  “El will be along in about an hour. She had some unfinished business in the city.”

  The large bells of the Cathedral began to ring. Almost time for the evening meal. He, Jonathan, Demetrius, and Tobias always ate together in the mess hall. It would be strange eating alone, Gabriel thought. Jonathan was still in the infirmary, and he had no idea where Demetrius was. His thoughts turned to Tobias. Today was to have been his final day of testing. He had passed the Test of Combat, and Gabriel knew Tobias would pass the Test of Knowledge. The only test that remained was the Angelic Blade. If an initiate could pick up the blade and not drop it in pain, he would become a Holy Defender. Many rumors circulated through the ranks of the initiates about that test, for it was the one that looked into one’s own soul. Tobias would have taken the test just two hours before, or at least, he was scheduled to.

  “What about Tobias. Did he take the test of the Angelic Blade yet?”

  Brother Kenneth nodded. “Yes he did. Brother Tobias is now a Holy Defender. I suggest you wait until tomorrow to congratulate him, though. The Angelic Blade is not something to be taken lightly, and when I left him in his room an hour ago, he was curled up on his bed sobbing.”

  The current of the crowd once again carried the two forward. They found themselves in the outer courtyard, where at least fifty initiates and twenty Holy Defenders were lined up in front of the inner wall gate. As per tradition when the Gray Bells were sounded, commoners were not being permitted inside the University at this time. Gabriel and Brother Kenneth walked pass the guarding initiates, and with a salute to the lead Defender, they went inside past the blockade.

  “Brother Kenneth,” Gabriel said once they had reached the gate and had started down the ten leg tunnel that lead to the inner courtyard. “Is the test of the Angelic Blade as… disturbing as they say?”

  The gray-haired deacon shrugged. “I am not a Holy Defender, so I have not been subject to the test. But, I have seen the most promising initiate cry out in agony and drop the blade leaving spiral brand marks on his hands. I’ve also seen the strongest, most brave and courageous lads crumple to the ground in tears begging forgiveness. I’ve seen the most haughty initiates I’ve ever known hold the blade and after they recovered, were filled with The Spirit and were monuments to humility and spirituality. As you know, no one is permitted to speak of the experience to anyone who has not undergone the test themselves, so no one but the Holy Defenders themselves can know what really happens.”

  Gabriel nodded. He would find out in four years time anyway.

  The inner courtyard was quiet by comparison. Here there was no training, no marching, not even much straying from the cobblestone paths that crisscrossed the lush, green area. Trees from different lands lined the paths, some beginning to blossom. Many of them produced fruit, some of which Gabriel had never seen before. Eleenia had told him about them, their origins and the medicinal uses of the fruits, but Gabriel had long forgotten the specifics. Rumor had it that years ago, the kitchen would harvest the fruit trees and prepare lavish meals twice a year for the clergy, Defenders, and initiates. But recently, an edict had been issued that only clergy of Bishop, his advisors, and the Archbishop were allowed to partake of the bounty.

  The two walked past the great westward-facing Avonshire Cathedral, setting sun shining against the multi-colored stained glass windows. Between the Cathedral and five story building that housed the clergy’s quarters stood the Grand Rectory, which housed the Archbishop, the Bishops, and Cardinals. It was half the size of the clergy building, but housed only 12 people. The ground floor of the Grand Rectory was used as a meeting area when the upper clergy and Defender Council came together. In front of the Grand Rectory, a large, beautiful fountain sprayed a column of water high in the air from between four carved
marble angels, kneeling in prayer with their heads bowed, hands towards heaven, and their wings spread wide. The water arced over the angels, landing in a crystal clear pool.

  Brother Kenneth turned and led Gabriel into the main entrance of the Grand Rectory. In all his years at the University, this was the first time Gabriel had ever entered the building. The foyer was breathtaking. Portraits in gold-cast frames lined the walls, pictures of Archbishops of old, and of several historical Pontiffs, including the current Holy Father, and a particularly garish rendering of Bishop Sentius. The furniture was also lavish. Benches and small tables of the finest oak, inlaid with gold, stood against the side walls.

  “Wait here, Brother Gabriel, and I shall announce you.” Brother Kenneth walked to the large double teakwood doors at the other end of the foyer. Turning one golden door handle, he opened the door slightly and slipped inside.

  The sick feeling that Gabriel had been feeling the past few days returned. He could hear muffled conversation from the other room. Unable to make out what was being said, he turned his attention back to the portraits.

  The door opened. Gabriel turned, expecting to see Brother Kenneth, however the man entering the room was his uncle, Rameus Ki Kalendeen. Gabriel’s eyes lit up at seeing his uncle. He quickly saluted, as all initiates did when confronted by a Holy Defender. Relative or not, his uncle was still his superior. When Gabriel had taken the Oath of Fealty to the Church, he had given up all ties to family, and all claims to his heritage. Even so, it was always good to see blood relatives.

  Rameus did not return the salute. His expression was heavy, and he looked on the verge of utter despair. “Gabriel,” he said as he stepped forward and hugged his nephew, an action that was completely out of character, even in private.

  “Brother Rameus,” Gabriel said stepping back a bit, “what’s the matter?”

  “You shall find out soon enough, boy. Whatever happens in there, be strong. Bring honor to our family name with your strength.”

  “Uncle Rameus? What has happened?”

  “Initiate Gabriel, please come forth!” a voice called from the other side of the door.

  Gabriel looked to the door, then back to his uncle, who was turning to leave. Taking a deep breath, he opened the double doors and strode into the meeting chamber.

  The room was even more extravagant than the foyer. Center, in front of him, was the Archbishop himself, seated upon a large oaken throne with red velvet cushions attached directly onto the wood. The aging, feeble man, barely able to hold his head up, nodded to Gabriel. To the left of the Archbishop sat the Templar Majoris. To his right, Bishop Sentius. Twenty-four other smaller thrones flanked the three, forming an inverted “U”. On the left side sat the Council of Twelve, the highest ranking Holy Defenders, save the Templar Majoris. On the right were the Archbishop’s council, twelve priests.

  All eyes followed Gabriel as he walked into the semicircle, causing a tingling sensation to travel down the length of his spine. He took another deep breath and genuflected to the Archbishop. Never in his life had he felt so on display, so lacking. The greatest men of the times were in this room, the men who decided the destiny of the church and who inspired the souls of the masses. He felt insignificant under their collective gazes.

  Bishop Sentius stood and stepped forward from his throne. “Brother Gabriel, it is my sad duty to inform you that there has been an attack on the city of Lystra, more specifically, the castle of Lord Ki Kalendeen.”

  Gabriel’s heart dropped into his stomach, but he held his composure.

  The Bishop cleared his throat, and continued in an unemotional, matter-of-fact tone. “All members of your family that resided in your ancestral home, your father, your mother, and your two brothers, were slain in the attack. There were few survivors. Also killed in the attack were the members of Lord Branvold’s family, although the youngest is missing and may still be alive. The bodies of your family have been identified and laid to rest.”

  The news didn’t seem real. Gabriel turned and looked at the Council Members to his left. None of them met his gaze as they lowered their eyes to the floor. His mind suddenly focused sharply on Eleenia.

  “Your Grace,” he said, straining to keep his voice from wavering, “what is to become of my sister, Eleenia?”

  The bishop looked a bit confused.

  “Your Grace?” said the high priest sitting next to him. The bishop leaned over and the priest whispered in his ear.

  Bishop Sentius nodded. “Due to the loss of your family’s land, you and your sister are no longer considered Nobility. You are indentured to The Church and shall continue along your path to become a Holy Defender. We haven’t decided about your sister, however. Depending on whether or not your father paid her tuition in full up front, she will either continue along on her path, or, God forbid, be put out of the University.”

  Gabriel’s heart, which already felt like it was in his stomach, skipped a beat. In his second of hesitation, the High Templar Mathias, seated next to the Templar Majoris, spoke in his place.

  “WHAT?!?” The six and a half foot man leaped out of his throne, knocking it over. He slammed his fist on the long wooden table in front of him. “Sentius, that is unacceptable! You can’t…”

  His voice was drowned out as the entire room erupted into a fevered argument.

  “…The law is the law!” one of the Templars said.

  “…If the judgement of God fell so hard on this family, we should have no part of it” another screamed.

  “…Throw them both out” a priest screamed.

  The Templar Majoris stood and raised his hands, but it did no good. The anarchy continued as arguments from keeping them both in the University for protection to having them banished from Elgannan all together were shouted over one another.

  The Archbishop, sitting still and listening until now, pounded his wooden staff three times against the table in front of him. All voices in the room fell silent. The decrepit old man, who some said had lived far beyond his years, braced himself against his staff and tried to stand.

  Bishop Sentius attempted to help the Archbishop to his feet, but was shooed away. It took several minutes, but slowly and painfully, the Archbishop stood, leaning heavily on his staff. He spoke with a soft voice, yet tempered with age, wisdom, and strength of spirit.

  “In all my years, I have never witnessed such an uncontrolled spewing of emotional speech.” His head bobbed in an uncontrolled manner as he gazed upon the members of the council. Most of the priests, cardinals, and templars looked away ashamed as his eyes fell on them. Only Bishop Sentius showed anything close to regret.

  The Archbishop continued. “Have you all forgotten what Lord Ki Kalendeen has done for this great institution? How much he has donated? How well his witness reflected upon us? Now, you want to throw his own flesh and blood to the very wolves that struck down such a great man of God? Never! Not as long as The Almighty…”

  “Your Eminence, please…” Bishop Sentius broke in.

  The sound of the Archbishop’s staff pounding once on the table echoed throughout the large chamber. He turned and met the gaze of the younger, taller man. “Don’t interrupt me, Sentius! I may be old, but I have not lost control of my faculties!”

  Bishop Sentius sat down, suitably chastised.

  “Let us also not forget that the young initiate before us and his sister are the nephew and niece of King Nicolae.” The Archbishop sat back down in his seat, obviously exhausted. Yet, his voice still rang with authority. “Initiate…” His mind went blank and he looked to the Templar Majoris.

  “Gabriel,” he whispered.

  “Initiate Gabriel, you shall continue along your path. And have no fear of what is to happen to your sister. She may have to earn her own keep, but she shall never be put out of the University as long as she desires to stay.”

  Gabriel genuflected once more to the Archbishop. “Thank you, your Emin
ence.”

  “And, Gabriel,” the old man said as a single tear rolled down his cheek, “my deepest sympathies and condolences to you and your sister on your loss. If you wish to spend the next week in prayer, you shall be excused from your duties.”

  “Thank you again, your Eminence, but the work will help keep my mind off of…” suddenly, Gabriel became choked up. “… what has happened.” His voice wavered, but he managed to keep from crying.

  The Templar Majoris nodded to Gabriel. “You are dismissed, Initiate.”

  With as much dignity as he could muster, Gabriel left the room.

  In spite of the warm, late spring sun, Gabriel felt as cold as a corpse. He ignored the path and walked right through the blooming flowers that lined the cobblestone in front of the Grand Rectory, and took the shortest path to the Cathedral. A gardener shouted at him angrily, shaking his fist as he trampled through the meticulously planted flowerbed, but he paid the man no heed.

  Leaving a small trail of soil behind him, Gabriel entered the Cathedral. The smell of burning incense still filled the vaulted room, but other than an acolyte cleaning up from the afternoon mass, the room was empty, for which Gabriel was thankful. He picked a pew at random and sat down. After a few minutes of collecting his thoughts, he knelt down, folded his hands, and hung his head in prayer. Within seconds, he broke down into anguished sobs.

  Prayer at this time was so hard for Gabriel, but he knew that only God could comfort him. He prayed with all his being in whatever way The Spirit quietly led him.

  The room grew dark and cold as the sun set. The Acolyte tried to speak to him before he retired for the evening, but Gabriel was so deeply in his meditative prayer that he didn’t even realize it.

  After a time, Gabriel stopped praying. The room was dark, lit only by the eternal flame candle hanging near the altar. He found a scribbled note from the acolyte next to him on the pew. In the darkness, he squinted to read it. The acolyte stated he was leaving the side door open if he wished to leave. He had left a jug of water and some biscuits for Gabriel in the side vestibule if he wanted them, and he would be praying for him, as he felt his loss. Gabriel folded the note and placed it inside his tunic pocket. He had no desire for food or water, and doubted he could keep it down if he had partaken of it.