The Last Refuge

by L. A. Blackburn

  “You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?” asked Conner.

  “I’ve never done a lot of things before today,” replied Nathan.

  “Yes,” said Conner with a thoughtful smile. “I suppose your right. But I don’t think today is your day.”

  And with a deceptive speed, he snatched a long dagger from his belt and plunged it to the hilt into Damon’s body and piercing into Nathan’s upper chest. Damon’s eyes rolled back, his body fell limp dropping his weight into Nathan’s unsuspecting arms like a sack of rocks, pitching them both forward and dumping them on the stone floor transfixed by the reddening metal blade. In utter shock and agony, Nathan pushed Damon away, pulling the dagger from his chest in the process. Cold laughter echoed around him in the chamber as Conner pulled his dagger from the motionless body of Damon. Blood began seeping into his clothes as Nathan held his hand on the wound in an attempt to quell the flow. Luckily, the wound wasn’t deep, but its location told him he’d missed instant death by barely an inch. His face displayed the confusion that was in his heart.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over in a moment,” said Conner, raising his knife again for another blow. The senseless brutality of it all overcame him. There must have been some event or tragedy that drove them to this and before he died, Nathan wanted to understand.

  “Why? Please tell me why?” he pleaded.

  The question took Conner by surprise for a moment, freezing his hand in mid-strike and drawing a sly smile across his face.

  “You really should have taken the hint and left, my boy,” said Conner. “Now, hold still. I’ll try to make this quick.”

  Suddenly, Dolward entered the cavern, running toward Abbot Conner and startling him for an instant. Nathan took the opportunity to roll toward the mouth of the well, snatch the journal from Conner’s belt and hold it over the open mouth of the well as the roaring water echoed below.

  “Come near me, and I’ll drop it,” said Nathan, winching in pain as he clutched the wound on his chest and tried to sit upright. Dolward looked at the lifeless body of Damon and red rage flooded his face.

  “You motherless dog! I’ll tear out your heart with my hands,” shouted Dolward to Nathan.

  “No, you idiot,” shouted Conner, but his warning came to late.

  Dolward lunged at Nathan and grabbed his shirt but the momentum of the charge sent them all over the edge into the jagged mouth of the well. Nathan managed to grab the corner of Conner’s cloak with one hand pulling the old monk after him into the well. The abbot would have let them both fall but if he let go long enough to remove Nathan, they all would instantly plummet into the watery depths. Dolward’s struggling dangled them back-and-forth like a hideous pendulum, smashing Nathan into the wall of the well, digging the sharp rocks into his shoulder. Slipping dangerously into the hole, Abbot Conner grabbed a nearby rock from the floor and struck wildly at them both, trying to land a blow that could remove them any way he could. Nathan tried his best to evade but the pain from his wounds made him dizzy and enabled Conner to land a well-placed blow. The strike dazed him and time seemed to stand still as the sound of his beating heart echoed in his ears. But, there was something else. A distant voice echoed in his ears like a distant horn, calling to him, urging him to do something but he couldn’t make it out. He felt so sleepy and thought how nice it would if he could just close his eyes, if even for a moment. Was he dying? Is this what it felt like? The voice rumbled stronger, louder, until finally it broke the frozen moment with an explosive demand that shook Nathan from his vision with one concussive word.

  “No!”

  Still gripping the journal, he came out of his trance just in time to dodge a blow by Conner that might have caved in his skull had it connected. The abbot’s face flashed with murder and a savage twist on his lips revealed his enjoyment of violence he presented. It was hard for Nathan to believe that this was the same man he grew to respect through the years.

  “Give me the blasted journal,” shouted Conner.

  “Pull us up, first,” panted Nathan.

  With an incredible burst of strength, Conner heaved himself upward to solid footing, bringing Nathan and Dolward almost to freedom. But as the two saw safety within their grasp, Conner gripped the cloak with both hands and leered into Nathan’s anxious face.

  “Last chance, give me the damned journal,” said Conner with flat impatience.

  “I have no intention of letting go of the journal until I’m standing on solid ground,” said Nathan, clutching the journal closer to his chest and staring up into Conner’s face with marked defiance.

  “Father, pull me up, I’m begging you,” pleaded Dolward in a desperate tone.

  “I see,” said Conner.

  Brother Dolward, you will be missed at evening prayers. With that, Conner put his foot on Dolward’s face and pushed with terrific force as young monk clung to Nathan’s shirt with all his might. However, Conner would not be defied and continued to push till a horrible crackling sound came from Dolward’s neck. Nathan felt the desperate hands that gripped him fall away, followed by the sound of a splash far below that confirmed what he already knew. Dolward was dead.

  “I want to be there when you die, murderer,” Nathan yelled.

  “Perhaps,” smiled Conner. “But not today.”

  Conner reached for the journal but the candlemaker released his grip, plunging into the darkness of the well as the blackness swallowed him whole. Nathan felt himself bouncing and whirling as he plummeted like a rag-doll repeatedly hitting the protruding rocks on the sides of the well. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt himself connect with the frigid water far below that gripped him in an icy clasp and swept him away. His head bobbed up-and-down as he struggled for breath. Twice, he almost passed out, but found small pockets of air to gasp and keep him alert. Repeatedly, he pushed his head above water only to have it dunked again by spiteful fingers of rock above him. While below the surface, a distant light peered at him out of the darkness and grew brighter with each passing second, but then the water’s course made a vicious drop, slamming his head into a boulder as blackness covered him like midnight.

  Four

  “Heavy Bond…”

  Nathan slowly opened his swollen eyes to find himself flat on his back on a cold mud floor, staring at a rock ceiling while water rushed around his head. Pain shot through his body with the slightest motion and it felt like a fist pounding on the inside of his skull like a war-drum. Shivering uncontrollably, he huddled into a ball and wrapped his soaked arms around his chest. The smell of musty wet earth surrounded him as the sound of trickling water echoed off the walls. He forced his eyes to focus on anything nearby but the strain made his head scream for mercy. Light flickered from the distance encouraging him to rise, but his attempts brought pain that shot to his head from every limb. He felt around for the journal but came up empty, so instead, slid to a nearby wall and pulled himself to a sitting position. Thankfully, his sight began to clear so he took a quick look at his surroundings. The star-cloth lay a few feet away soaked and covered with dirt. So many times he’d thought to throw it away or destroy it. Now, he knew it was only a ploy by Conner to get him to leave the monastery, so he left it where it lay. Nearby, a small brackish-red stream flowed through the center of the tunnel, pouring itself out of the entrance into an open space beyond. The entrance stood only a hundred yards away, but in his condition, it might as well have been miles. Then, he heard two men talking in hushed, guarded, tones at the entrance to the tunnel. He strained to hear and wondered if Conner would come to finish him off.

  With great effort, Nathan pulled himself to his feet, pressing himself against the wall of the tunnel to keep his presence to a minimum. Following the wall, he watched each step, carefully placing his feet between the jumble of rocks that littered the tunnel floor. He hoped to see the source of the voices without being noticed. Pain shot threw his limbs as he forced them to do his bidding, but his injuries and loss of blood worked against
him with each step. Finally, he went close enough to the mouth of the tunnel to see them. Nathan cursed under his breath as his torn tunic snagged on the jagged wall of the cave throwing him off balance, causing him to stumble over some stone on the floor. This didn’t go unnoticed as one of the men ran to Nathan, grabbing him by the neck and putting a knife to his throat. He looked closely into the young man’s eyes. The man’s rotted teeth peered between cracked lips as his rank breath hit Nathan full in the face. It was apparent that the thug was sizing him up.

  “You don’t look like no Venger,” the man stated. “Think he’s here for the bounty, Cal?”

  “What are you talking about? Did Conner send you to finish me off? Because, I’m through running,” Nathan challenged.

  “Sassy mouth on him, huh,” said Cal as he struck Nathan in the face. “Don’t know no ‘Conner,’ but if someone is willing to pay for your sorry skin, I’m more than happy to oblige. What you think, Dez?”

  “He has the look of a runner. Bet you coin he has a Venger on his trail right now,” said Dez, picking his teeth with a knife. “He could be worth some coin, but it’s risky and we don’t have time to drag him to Pelan City to find out. Ask him about the tunnel.”

  “Is it in there? Don’t lie, or I’ll spill your innards,” pressed Cal as his eyes darted back-and-forth from Nathan to the darkness of the cave.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything,” Nathan said, noticing a nervous edge in their tone.

  “Dez, look at this,” said Cal as he pulled Nathan’s hair aside revealing his pointed ear.

  “He’s Mag Mellian,” said Dez flatly as he turned Nathan’s head examining the other ear.

  “He’s got the eye shape and the thin chin. But the ears are what they really look at for a Mag Mel,” said Cal. “Blast! What’s wrong with his other ear? It’s normal. Regent Mano’s paying a gold coin a piece for the head of an Eldritch, but this one is flawed.”

  Cal pulled the young candlemaker back into the opening at knifepoint while his partner searched the floor. Nathan looked out the opening of the tunnel and couldn’t believe his eyes. The moon peaked over the distant horizon, but none of the shadows on it matched his memory and it appeared larger to him. In fact, the sky appeared bluer than his recollection and the coastline that stretched North to South had steep sheer cliffs with no beach to speak of. Even his attacker’s speech had an accent he’d never heard. If this were still Wales, he was nowhere near a location he understood.

  “Found something,” stated Dez, holding up the star-cloth. “It’s got tomewright markings.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Cal as he pressed the knife against Nathan’s throat so hard blood started to flow. “I say we slice him and be done with this.”

  Suddenly, the faint sound of a crying echoed in the tunnel. The sound made the hair stand up on the back of Nathan's neck and drew a look of terror across the faces of his attackers.

  “I knew it. It’s here,” said Dez as the sound grew closer.

  There was a flash of movement from the darkness of the tunnel followed by a whistling sound and a thump. Suddenly, Cal dropped to his knees, falling on his face with a knife embedded to the hilt in his neck. Dez quickly turned, scrambling as he ran toward the entrance cursing with each breath, but not fast enough. Another whistling sound followed a flash of metal as Dez fell to his knees vainly trying to clutch at the dagger protruding from his back between his shoulders. The light in his eyes soon faded as he fell on the ground breathing his last.

  A cloaked figure emerged from the darkness with deft speed, jumped onto Nathan's chest, knocking him to the ground and with knife in hand, posed to plunge it in his throat. In the dim light of the tunnel, it appeared to Nathan that a red-ocher mist surrounded his attacker, dark and foreboding, moving like a living vapor with the stench of death. When they touched, Nathan felt a gruesome chill run through his body that made him sick to his stomach. The new attacker hesitated, looking down at him from under a dark gray hood. Light from the entrance, glinted on the lower part of its face revealing a malevolent grin with sharp pointed teeth. Then, with a quick upward swing, the knife dove at Nathan’s heart with deft speed. He threw up defending hands to meet the knife but when they struck the attacker’s arm, and when they met, sparks flew in all directions and the attacker fell sideways off Nathan, convulsing like a head struck animal. The mist surrounding the attacker began tearing away in shreds as though blacken bandages were being ripped from its body. Two red eyes suddenly appeared within the vapor and then vanished suddenly as the air began clearing of the putrid smell. When the mist finally faded, the attacker fell to the dirt of the tunnel entrance and lay still.

  Nathan thought to run but couldn't flee. His attacker lay helpless on the ground before him, cloaked and still as death. The light from the mouth of the tunnel reveals the faint outline of a human form. He moved closer, reaching a timid hand to remove the hood but it began to stir causing him to make a quick retreat. A single feminine arm stretched from under the concealment of the gray cloak, presenting a strong arm like warm marble ending at a hand that, while lithe and small, displayed strong supple fingers that ended in long keen nails. Slowly, she lifted a hooded face and without warning, let out an ear-piercing scream that sent Nathan stumbling backward, scrambling toward the mouth of the tunnel. In his rush, his feet stopped kicking pebbles over the edge of a sheer drop. The ruddy water from the tunnel poured out into a vast expanse of sky beyond the opening, plummeting to strike the churning waters of an unfamiliar ocean. The grandeur of the sight took his breath for a moment until his eyes told him he was lost. The woman followed him to the edge of the tunnel opening, stumbling and staggering like a wounded beast.

  Confusion always made her angry and, for the first time in a long while, she was confused. The fire of hatred that kept her warm so long was fading leaving behind a cold stillness like the silence after a storm.

  She felt, drained.

  Putting a hand to her aching head, she surveyed the area for the cause to her distress and upon seeing Nathan, lunged at him, grabbing him by the shirt near the neck and lifting him off the ground. Even from under her shadowed hood, Nathan could see her fierce eyes flashing with the rage of confusion.

  “What sorcery is this? What did you do to me,” she growled as her grip tightened. Her voice was young, yet raspy, and dangerous as a wild beast. She wasn’t as large as Nathan in either height or frame, yet, hard as he tried, he could not free himself from her iron grip. The sinews of her slender arm knotted with his weight but showed no signs of faltering.

  “I don't know. I fell down a well and lost my bearings. It must have put me in the River Pyr near the monastery and drew me to the coast,” said Nathan.

  “There is no river by that name in Akeldema. You were sent by the Green Branch to claim me weren’t you,” she insisted. “Who are you?”

  “Nathan.” He said, “I was a candlemaker at St. Brendan's Monastery until…until...the massacre.”

  Nathan dropped his gaze to the ground as she searched his face for clues of deception. Then his eyes fell on the star-cloth and the twinge of fear that flashed across his face didn’t go unnoticed. Her eyes shifted to the direction of his gaze as she quickly pushed him to the ground and snatched it from the muddy stream.

  “So which one on the filthy council sent you,” she said, turning it over in her hands.

  “No one sent me, I’ve been trying to tell you that,” said Nathan as he snatched the cloth, quickly stuffing it in his shirt. Suddenly, an idea came to him. “Look at the path. How did I get here without leaving any tracks?”

  “I can move without leaving sign,” she insisted.

  “Do I look like I can do that?” He insisted.

  “We’ll see,” she said, eyeing him from under her hood.

  Suddenly, horror overtook her as she realized why she felt different. Her Malakim demon was gone and her bond with it broken. As far as her memory could tell her, she had always been in the chains
of possession. Why did it leave? But more than that, now that it was gone, it would be returning to kill her. Somehow, this stranger held the answers so she quickly tied his hand behind his back and prodded him with the end of a knife.

  “Move,” she ordered.

  “What do you mean?” said Nathan with irritation.

  “Are you stupid, or deaf? Move,” she ordered, prodding him with the point of her knife. He desperately scanned the area for the journal but couldn’t see it anywhere. Somehow, he had to find the journal. He knew if he left the area there was no guarantee of returning.

  “Please let me stay, there is something very important I lost,” he pleaded, trying to glimpse her face beneath the shrouded hood. She noticed his attempts and quickly turned her face away. “At least let me look for it.”

  “What could be so important?” she asked.

  “A book, a journal to be sure,” replied Nathan.

  “I know of such tomes. What’s its value in the market?” She said with anticipation.

  “I don’t know but it’s valuable to me,” persisted Nathan.

  She thought hard for a moment but knew her time was up. She heard reports of others whose demon left them for one reason or another, and they all ended horribly. The book could be valuable, and pay off some of the bounty on her head, but time was of the essence.

  “Wait here,” she said, disappearing into the tunnel with the speed of thought. A moment later, she reemerged shaking her head. “It’s not there. Let’s go.”

  “What do you mean? It had to be.” Insisted Nathan.

  “It’s not there,” she insisted. Abruptly, she froze for a moment, kneeling close to the ground like a hunting cat. Then, drawing a knife from her cloak, she motioned for Nathan to be quiet.

  “There are stairs near the edge of the cliff, run to them quickly and don’t stop,” she said in a hushed tone. Her face remained covered but by the way she cocked her head to one side, it was evident she heard something approaching.