Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  Malachi nodded understandingly.

  “Your Grace, was it truly undead what attacked at the wedding?”

  The bishop glanced back and forth to make sure no one was listening. “Gabriel, I am not supposed to speak of it, but so you won’t spend your nights wondering, I shall tell you. However, this is for your ears and your ears only. Not even your sister may be told.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I promise I shall take it to my grave.”

  “It was indeed the work of the living dead.”

  Gabriel inhaled sharply. His skin felt like it was going to crawl off of his flesh. “But how is such a thing possible?”

  The bishop shrugged. “The evil one has many weapons, some spiritual, some corporeal. He grants his servants horrific powers to animate the dead and manipulate the energies of this world.” Malachi put his hand on the high initiate’s shoulder. “But fear not, my son. With faith and with God as our ally, we can always overcome. The Holy Spirit dwells within us, and greater is He than is in the world.”

  Several deacons walked past the fountain. Their voices were low in muffled conversation.

  Malachi waited until they passed. “I am afraid I have said too much already, my son. I shall take my leave.” The portly bishop braced himself against his walking staff and grunted as he raised himself to his feet. “I imagine your sister is tending to young Liam. I believe I shall pay them a visit.”

  Gabriel nodded. He stood and grasped the bishop’s hand. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  The bishop smiled and nodded. Patting Gabriel on the shoulder, he made his way to the infirmary.

  * * * * * *

  “I can’t believe it! Fifteen hundred gold profit!” Karinga was practically jumping in the street as the four men made their way back to the docks district. “David, any doubts I had are now gone! You truly are the best Yeoman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” The captain put his arm around the young Yeoman.

  David shook his head. “Fourteen hundred eighty profit, Captain. She won’t be paying for the two sample barrels.”

  “At least the one was only half full,” said Fyke with a wry grin. “Damn that was good beer, right Edge?”

  The large man nodded, keeping his trained eyes on the throngs of people crowding the dirt street.

  “Plus,” David said, “we barely broke even on the wine. Curse it! I should have known that anything coming out of a vineyard that far north would be fit for little more than gar.”

  Fyke looked taken aback. “Gar? That was high quality wine!”

  Karinga slapped his first mate on the back. “I think ol’ Corwyn spent too much time in the Ordures Blanches growing up! It done ruined his sniffer!” Karinga laughed raucously at his own joke. The other three couldn’t help but join in. “David, after the deal you struck on the beer, I truly am not concerned about the wine. It was only twenty cases, and breaking even on such a small quantity is good enough.”

  A brown-haired, mustached figure stepped out of the crowd into the path of the joyful party. He wore a blue feathered hat with the left brim turned upward and a matching surcoat. A gold sash ran from his right shoulder to his waist, right above his ivory-handled rapier, telling of his high rank in the Sea Merchants’ Guild. The man took his wooden pipe out of his mouth and blew the smoke through his nose. “Good day of trading, Captain Karinga?”

  Karinga stopped dead in his tracks, his mood turning instantly sour. “Lads, are we near a privy trench or am I… Oh, bless my stars, it’s Donegal!”

  “Charming as always, Captain. And it’s Commodore Donegal, if you please.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Karinga said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Whatever you say. Now if you will excuse us, we have business to attend to.”

  Edge protectively stepped in front of Karinga. “Let me break ‘is face, Cap’n! He been a burr up yer arse for far too long.”

  Donegal smiled patronizingly. “Now now, Stockmore. No need to resort to violence. I’m just here to offer Captain Karinga another chance at membership in the guild. Think about it Captain, no more pestering. And I think we can even overlook those three men of ours you killed in New Portsmouth.”

  David took a step back, hiding behind Fyke.

  “Fine,” Karinga said. “I’ll pay your ten gold.”

  “Ten? No, no, captain.” Donegal put his pipe in his mouth and took a deep drag. “You see, when you were a mere errand runner for the merchants and nobility, you were barely making enough to keep your ship crewed. Ten gold was all we can expect of a piss-boy contractor. But now, you are trading in commodities, encroaching on guild territory. If you want to stay in business, you must join us.”

  Karinga rolled his eyes. “Get to the bottom line, you bag of wind! How much?”

  Donegal regarded each member of the party one by one. “Hearing as you made a good haul today, I think a thousand gold will be enough to keep you in business.”

  David instinctively took a step back. Fyke’s jaw dropped, and Edge grabbed the hilt of his cutlass.

  “A thousand gold?” said Karinga incredulously, his face turning red. “That’s bloody high seas robbery!”

  Donegal smirked, folding his arms. “A thousand per month! Those are guild dues, not robbery. I’ll take the first payment now. And since it is the 12th of Pentecost, I suppose I will be generous and collect your next payment on the 12th of Summerlight, rather than on the first.”

  Karinga stepped within arm’s reach of the guildsman. He quickly snatched the pipe out of Donegal’s mouth. “Here’s what I think of your bloody guild dues!” With that, he broke the pipe in two, threw it on the ground, and crushed it beneath his heel. “You can tell Gaeceric to take his guild dues and batten them down his ol’ hatch! What do you have to say about that?”

  With gloved hand, Donegal wiped each side of his waxed mustache. “You disappoint me, Captain Karinga, but you do not surprise me. Very well then. I shall take my leave.” With a slight bow of his head, Commodore Donegal stepped backwards, disappearing into the crowd.

  Karinga stood with his fists on his hips shaking his head. “Gah, the nerve of that man!”

  “Aye,” said Fyke. “He’s probably on his way to tell Gaceric right now.”

  “Ye shoulda let me gut’im, Cap’n!”

  Karinga chuckled. “Edge, if you had, the entire guild would be on us like stink on a brothel.”

  The four of them stood quietly contemplating what possibly was to come. Karinga knew they hadn’t seen the last of Donegal, but with more and more ships refusing to pay guild dues, they might get lucky and continue to slip through the cracks.

  David decided to break the silence. “So what are we going to do, Captain?”

  Karinga looked to David and smiled. “Don’t worry, Tanner. We’ll keep doing what we have been. We’ll buy and sell commodities, earn gold on errands, and maybe frequent guild-run ports a bit less.

  “Come on, lads. Lets get back to the ship. The Lord only knows what Dunkirk will do if Malcoeur’s men try to take that shipment of beer away.”

  * * * * * *

  Eleenia dabbed the cloth in some herb-scented water, wrung it out, and placed it across Liam Branvold’s forehead. She was concerned for the fourteen-year-old boy, as he was said to have not spoken in a month. He ate, drank, slept, and took care of his bodily needs, but apart from that, he would just lie in bed staring off at something unseen.

  Pulling her stool up next to his bed, Eleenia sat down and took his cold, clammy hand. Her own hands were becoming rough and dry from hours of working in the dish pits. “Liam, can you hear me?”

  Liam turned his head slightly towards her and blinked several times. However, he did not speak.

  Eleenia smiled. “Do you remember the time you and David were playing with my father’s daggers? I remember you r
an to my room and barged inside without even knocking. ‘El! El! David cut himself!’ Fortunately for you I was in a decent state of dress or the castle surgeons would have been stitching both of you up. You both begged me not to tell father. That was the first time I ever stitched up a person.” El laughed. “I thought you were going to cry harder than David when I first pushed the needle through his skin.”

  The corners of Liam’s mouth turned upwards almost imperceivably.

  “Remember over Christmas when the three of us caught Alexander and Mareth kissing in your father’s stables? I think your sister yanked out an entire handful of my hair when we threw the water bladders on them!” she said, rubbing her head. “Although I think you and David received worse from Alexander when he carried you both around the grounds by your smallclothes. But we sure got them back for that, didn’t we?

  “Or the time we covered ourselves with chimney soot and startled poor Angus McCracken? That was a stupid thing for us to do, him being a master swordsman and all.”

  Liam’s smile had become more defined.

  “How about the time we told Gabriel that we dropped father’s signet ring into the manure pit and he…”

  “Eleenia Ki Kalendeen!” a voice yelled from across the room.

  Liam’s smile faded as he focused his gaze back into the nothingness above him.

  Another of the Bishop’s aides, Brother Krennan stood in the doorway with his arms folded in front of him. “Mistress Wetherbee has informed me that you missed your work hours today.”

  El turned to avoid his gaze. “My apologies, Brother. Liam was brought into the infirmary and I thought…”

  “You thought?” he said indignantly, walking into the room towards them. “You are to think in regards to your academic pursuits, not to your punitive measures! That will be another three unpaid work hours per week for the next year! Now go, or I shall make it five!”

  Krennan was so close to her El could smell the alcohol upon his breath. “But I spoke to Mistress Wetherbee and…”

  The Bishop’s aide seized her arm and clamped his grip down, causing El to wince. “Do not talk back to me, child. You are a commoner now, and therefore have…”

  “Brother Krennan, may I speak to you a moment?” a voice said softly but sternly.

  Krennan turned to see Mother Superior standing at the door he had just entered. “One moment, Reverend Mother.” He turned back to Eleenia, having never loosened his grip. “If you continue to…”

  “Brother Krennan, I truly must speak to you this instant about a matter of great importance.” The nun’s voice was still as gentle as a summer breeze.

  “Half a moment!” he said agitatedly.

  “Please do not take that tone with me, Brother. I must speak to you immediately.” Although she spoke more forcefully, Mother Superior did not raise her voice.

  Krennan sighed and abruptly let go of Eleenia’s arm. “What is so important that it could not wait?” he said indignantly.

  “In the hallway, please.” The nun turned and glided out of the room. The Bishop’s aide followed her, anxious to get the conversation over with so he could go back to tormenting the young student.

  Eleenia rubbed her arm. Deep red was beginning to show where the Deacon had grabbed hold of her, and she was sure bruises would form. That could be a very bad occurrence, as Gabriel would demand to know how they came to be. When she told him that Brother Krennan grabbed and twisted her arm… Shaking her head, she tried to put the thought of what her brother might do out of her mind.

  The voices in the hallway were audible, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They had risen in intensity from when they first started.

  El turned her attention back to Liam. She took the rag off of his head and soaked it anew in the scented healing mixture. Wringing it out, she returned it to his forehead. Liam was still staring at the ceiling, eyes fixed upon nothing.

  Brother Krennan’s voice rose to a yell, but was cut short by the smack of wood against flesh, followed by a yelp.

  “I don’t care for your tone, Brother.” Mother Superior said.

  The contrite tone of Krennan’s voice that followed made Eleenia chuckle. Soon, the voices stopped, and Mother Superior came back into the room.

  “Eleenia, the judicial board has found the charges brought against you to be false. All of the hours you have worked to date shall be applied to your next semesters’ room and board.”

  Eleenia could barely contain herself. Running over, she hugged the nun. “Oh, thank you, Reverend Mother! Thank you!” Embarrassed, she composed herself.

  Mother Superior smiled and patted her on the head. “Now, let us see how young Liam is doing.”

  The two walked to the side of his bed. Mother Superior sat upon the side, next to him. “Liam?” she said.

  Liam’s eyes moved to focus upon the nun. He blinked several times as tears welled up in his eyes. “Aunt Ann,” he said softly.

  She took the rag off of his forehead and gently dabbed at the tears as the young boy wept. “You are safe now, Liam. Rest.”

  “It was so terrible, Aunt Ann,” he said. “All the blood, and the monsters… they were everywhere.”

  “I know, nephew. I know. Rest.”

  Eleenia sat upon her stool. “Aunt Ann? Reverend Mother, you are related to Liam?”

  Mother Superior smiled. “Yes, I am. Zareth Branvold was my elder brother. I was born Ann Branvold.” She turned her attention back to Liam. The constant tension that had been present on his brow began to dissipate.

  Eleenia shook herself out of her disbelief. It all made sense now, why Mother Superior had taken such a strong interest in her since the tragedy that had befallen both of their families. Also why she had been so insistent upon ridding her of her work hours.

  “Reverend Mother, you mentioned a debt you owed my father. What was it?”

  Liam pulled himself up to his elbows and sat up in his bed, looking to his aunt.

  “When I was, oh, about two years younger than Liam, we had traveled to Lystra for Christmas. Since I was the only girl, and didn’t have any friends in their household, your father would take pity on me and invite me along with him, Zareth, and Rameus on their adventures. Zareth and Rameus would go to great lengths to tease me. ‘Don’t pick on Ann,’ Alexander would say, ‘she’s the baby.’ He would always watch out for me. Anyway, on that Christmas evening when I was twelve, it had been warm throughout the months of Sanctusaal and most of Nativitas. The ice that formed over the eastern fork of the Vissik was none too strong. Still, foolish girl that I was, I wanted to prove to them that I was as brave as any boy.”

  “Did you fall through the ice?” Liam asked.

  “Yes, I did. Rameus and Zareth began to panic, but Alexander crawled out onto the ice on his stomach to try to rescue me. When he reached me, my limbs had gone numb, and I began to sink into the river. But God bless him, he somehow managed to pull me out and bring me back to shore.”

  Eleenia began to laugh with a joy that was contagious, as she was soon joined by the other two.

  “Is that Liam I hear laughing?”

  The three looked to the infirmary doorway to see Bishop Malachi entering the room.

  “He only needed some family, Your Grace,” said Mother Superior.

  The Bishop smiled warmly. “Thank you, Reverend Mother, for seeing to him. My heart was troubled for young Liam since our journey to Avonshire began. Since you seem to have things well in hand, I believe I shall retire. It has been a trying month and an exhausting day.” The Bishop bowed his head, and shuffled out of the room.

  The three went back to their reminiscing. For the first time since the attack, both Liam and Eleenia caught a glimpse of the happiness and contentment of their families that was undeservedly ripped from their lives.

  * * * * * *

  The group made their way through t
he crowded streets of Port Cauldwell, bodies practically pressing against them with every step. The altercation with Commodore Donegal had soured everyone’s mood, and the constant bumping had them hanging onto their valuables, further agitating the crew.

  David was more than a little bit nervous and couldn’t wait to be safely back onboard the Waverunner. Ever since the wedding tragedy, crowds always bothered David. Little but the open sea calmed his nerves these days. Even his cabin gave him little respite from the images of that horrible day. At night, he would lie awake, terrified to go to sleep, as sleeping meant dreaming. While his nightmares had grown fewer and less frequent, they were still terrible when they came upon him.

  He had taken to strolling the deck at night, more often than not ending up in his usual place near the jib boom. There he found peace. Standing with the salt spray on his face, the roar of the ocean, and the splashes of the keel as the Waverunner cut its way thought the dark waters felt like standing on the edge of eternity. Nothing could be seen ahead or below, yet the sounds and spray would assault his senses. Standing on the edge of eternity meant that David wasn’t standing on the edge of madness. Fyke was right. There was nothing like the sea to chase away the demons of one’s past.

  The loud and nasally call of a pickle vendor three feet from David’s ear brought him out of his thoughts. The crowd was becoming thinner. Odd, as there were usually more people near the docks, especially this time of day. David shrugged it off. He had never been in Port Cauldwell before, so maybe things were different here.

  Suddenly, an image from his past, one that he had tried to bury, thrust itself into the present as David’s glance caught the telltale brown toothed sneer of one of Gaeceric’s men. Pembroke, the only surviving member of the group that had attacked him a month ago in New Portsmouth was stalking towards him, dagger drawn!