A-Viking (Betrayed by Faith Book 3)

by Paul C. Middleton

  He got out of the sleeping bag carefully and went to his bag. He got one of his oversize t-shirts out and threw it at her, then turned to start the breakfast. She got the message, shrugged to herself and put the shirt on. He had mentioned something about an aversion to that sort of contact. That it was not for him until he had found the path to redemption.

  She sighed. The Gods alone knew when that would happen. She could only hope it was soon.

  She went for her pack, looking for something other than his shirt to wear, but as he had found the night before, all her clothes were soaked. Memories of what happened were disjointed, but enough returned for her to form a clear picture. She’d been hit by a wall of ice and water when he’d finally found how to reach into the dimension of water. He must have reached deep into it for both the volume and the temperature of the water he’d released.

  Usually when a child reached into the dimensions deliberately for the first time, they might bring forth a puddle of water, a light breeze, or a flame the size you’d expect from a lighter. But then children were still developing. It would be dangerous, not deadly, for a child to bring forth what he had managed. As she was thinking, she strung a rope between two trees so she could dry her clothes. Once that was finished, she hung up as many a would fit and emptied the pack so it would dry.

  She walked up to Griffin when she was finished and said, “I’m sorry about last night. I should have been further back, well away from where you were likely to have an effect. I was too close to the most likely source of water to be affected, that tiny stream. Please forgive me the lack of thought that caused you trouble.”

  He turned and looked at her. She was barely covered appropriately by his shirt. It was more for her benefit anyways. He carried too much guilt. He could not afford to let himself forget by losing himself to sensations. The distraction it could cause might give him temporary relief, the core would remain unsolved. He needed time and a way to change the heart of his problems before he let any distractions into his life.

  He closed his eyes briefly, and twin images flashed through his mind. One was of her turning blue from cold the night before. The other was the look of passion and lust on her face when she woke him that morning.

  He felt disgusted with himself for thinking she had desire on her face after the ordeal of the night before. Then he shook it off. It could have been what was on her face. He’d seen it often enough when he’d saved someone from something they didn’t understand. The line between deep gratitude and desire was a thin one. Thinner than the blue line of police he thought and a chuckle broke his lips.

  He realized she was watching him carefully, so answered her apology. “Not required. Neither of us knew what to expect it seems, so no blame is on either of us.” To his surprise, it was also what he believed about the incident. After all, this was so new to him, and he could hardly be expected to know what to expect. His level of power was apparently outside her experience as a teacher, so how could she be to blame?

  “Realize it’s not because you are unattractive. You are quite lovely, but I’m not fit for such. Besides, even if I were, I would have refused. Having sex with you after the shock, the hypothermia you suffered last night would have been taking advantage, which is something I refuse to do. I only did what I did because it was necessary.”

  She nodded. “I understand.” Then she walked up to him and gave him another passionate kiss on the lips. “It’s still so unusual in this day and age to find such a gentleman. Don’t think it isn’t appreciated. Or,” her voice turned sultry, “that the offer is closed should you change your mind. That's now twice that you have saved me. Not to mention your willingness to train me. To me, you are a personal knight in shining armor.”

  Griffin wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that his life had just gotten far more complicated. The thought some of the answers he sought to his problems might be found in this complication never crossed his mind.

  Mudgee, New South Wales, March 10th.

  They had hitchhiked to Mudgee and finding a small bed and breakfast on the edge of town. Now that the busy season was over, they could stay a couple of nights for a reasonable price and wash their clothes. They must have looked like a pair because the owner insisted they take the room with the queen bed. Griffin shrugged it off, knowing his boundaries were firmly set. This morning the owner, an older man, took Griffin aside.

  “You look like someone a friend of mine has mentioned. ‘Haps she knew your father, me boy. I think you should drop in and see her. Even if I’m wrong lad, it’d be a fine thing. She’s been down a lot since her daughter left home, y’see. Seeing someone new and listening to a few tales of your travels might be just the thing to cheer her if ya have the time. I’ll drive you there myself if you agree.”

  Griffin didn’t know what to say. He was aware that if this person knew someone who ‘looked like him,' then it was him, not his father they were talking about. But he hadn’t been to Australia often. So he couldn’t think of who it might be. Still, they might be helpful. Or they might condemn him. Best to find out, though. He doubted it was an Order member. There were too few women in the Order still, and he couldn’t remember one retiring to Australia.

  He looked at Brianna, and she shrugged. It wasn’t like they had anything to do once they had the clothes hung out to dry. “Of course we will. You’ve been very kind to us, and it’s the least we can do. Just drop us off, we’ll get a cab back or walk. It’s a nice day out.”

  He smiled at Griffin. “Knew you were a right fella. You have a responsible attitude about you that is all too rare these days, mate.”

  Once they were ready, he led them to his vehicle, a dual cab Ute. A white beat up old Hilux. They sat in the back. The drive was short, to an old farmhouse beyond the edge of town. While the house had seen better days, the gardens were immaculately maintained. Not that they were showy, the obviously were laid out to provide the owner a level of self-sufficiency. There were neatly arranged rows of vegetables, a small mixed orchid and a rather large herb garden full of autumn’s harvest. Their guide walked up to the door and knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Flynn. I brought ‘round a young fella and his companion for a visit. Thought you could use the company. He looks like he could be the son of that fella you talk about sometimes. The one whose combat missions you supported.”

  There was a laugh from inside, and someone walked to open the door. Once she was facing Flynn, she said, “The chances of him being here are so small…” Her voice trailed off when she saw Griffin.

  “Griffin? Is that you?” she asked.

  Flynn grinned widely and said, “Well then, I’ll just leave you to chat with him and his ladyfriend. See you both later, mate.”

  He got back into his Ute and drove off.

  She looked at Griffin, a slight scowl on her face. Griffin still hadn’t placed her. He was normally better at remembering people than this. “Come in, I’ll put on some tea. Then we can talk. You would have to be one of the last people I’d expect to see wandering. And I thought your apprentice was a tall lass who dyed her hair purple.”

  “Thing have changed… a lot… in the last few weeks.” Griffin replied, motioning to Brianna and following the woman into the house.

  He thought he recognized her, but if it was who he thought she was she should be, well, dead. One way or the other. Even though she had survived the were attack, that had been almost a hundred years ago. He found himself lost in memory. After The Great War, there had been a shortage of male volunteers to support the Order, so it had fallen to the Sisterhood of St. Rita to fill the gap. Many of the Ritans had been enthusiastic volunteers.

  The memory of what had happened flashed before him.

  He had arrived too late. The group that from St. Rita had been massacred. They had made a good showing, with over thirty werewolves amongst the dead, but there were at least twenty dead Ritans. The rest were all injured to one degree o
r another. He sighed as he separated the wounded out. He had given his word that the injured would be taken to the nearest Chapter-house of their order. His recovery team bound the injuries as best they could and transported them there.

  Joy was amongst the wounded. She had been slated to take leave from support duties for his order, he knew. It was a damned shame this incident had happened when there was no order support available for days. There had been too many casualties during the war. Too many problems left until later. When they later had the time, there had not been enough Paladins left to deal with every incident that occurred. The tyranny of distance meant the churches often had to hire independents or use whatever members of the orders of St. Michael and St. Rita volunteered.

  It was still better than letting the Werewolves and Vampires ‘recruit’ from those left wounded on the battlefields overnight.

  He had prayed to the saint Joy followed that one of her team would make it through. He would have preferred her, a proven asset, but if any of them had enough of God’s grace to resist the change to a werewolf, it could only have been to the Order’s advantage in these troubled times

  Over the next two days every so often he would hear a shot. By the time he left, on the morning of the third day, there had been a shot for every sister that had returned injured. His prayers had not been answered.

  He shook himself as she turned from the teapot. After pouring two more cups, she said, “I had hoped the Order wouldn’t hunt me down. After all, as far as they knew, I was dead. At least sit down and have a cup of tea before it’s over.”

  Griffin looked confused, Brianna looked at him in shock. “I’m not here to hurt you, Joy. I honestly had no idea you were alive. I’m… not with the Order anymore.”

  There was a crash as she dropped the mug holding her tea. “W-w-what? You left the Order? What happened? You are the last person I would have thought to leave the Order.” Her mouth took a grim set. “It’s not like I could see you believing what I found out. None of the Children of Rita could.” She raised a hand to her face in horror at what she had let slip out.

  Griffin looked at her intensely for a minute or so. After he and Brianna had sat down with their tea, they went over what had happened. How he had found out the truth and what about it all had convinced him. About halfway through Joy had poured herself a small brandy. The shock of it all, of seeing Griffin here in the same or worse situation than she, had shaken her to the point that she had needed something to calm her a little. His telling of how he came to leave the Order took about an hour.

  Finally, Griffin had looked to her and said, “So what happened to you? I heard the shots. One for every wounded person we had brought back. I was certain you were dead. Are you… somehow… a werewolf that can control herself?” He raised his eyebrow at her.

  “Oh, heavens no. Without an experienced and sane Were around, whatever the type, anyone who changes goes feral. Like those you hunt. I’ve learned a lot about them over the years. They are a very secretive bunch. They hunt out vampires when they can… well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue, ain’t it.”

  “No, I didn’t change because I’m a little like you, Griffin. A descendant of the Gods won’t change. That is the least of what I’ve learned ‘bout them too. Basically, whatever it is that changes an ordinary human into one of them can’t stand the energy of the planes. Let’s say it’s a virus that changes an average person - the trace amount that even the weakest descendant of the Gods pulls unconsciously-” She was interrupted by Brianna.

  “Godsborn is what most of us call ourselves,” she said diffidently and quietly.

  “Godsborn then. That trace amount is enough to denature the virus, or whatever it is, killing it. So, when the Sister guarding me saw I wasn’t changing, I was lucky. She shot into the bed and took me out of the monastery by a passage even the Mother Superior hadn’t known about.” She looked Griffin straight in the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “And that’s as far as I’m going until you tell me more. You’ve told me the what convinced you to leave. Now you need to tell me the why of you traveling, and without your former apprentice or anyone else who left with ya. I ain’t gonna trust you any further until you can.”

  “An’ you there, lass, neither should you. I can hear your draw on the planes echoing. Last info I got, Griffin there had killed five hundred or more of those like us.” She jutted her chin towards him as his face darkened. “I’m not sayin’ some of them didn’t need killin’… They did of a cert, oh yes. But as many did not.” Her eyes hardened as she said that. “I still ain’t figured out how the Order got their bloody hands on Griffin as a bub. He had to have been recognized by one of the communities from birth. His echo is quiet, but there’s always been something about it.” Her face became contemplative. “I mean it’s not loud, but I can hear him a state away if I try. Should've been listening, though. I’d heard you might be coming. Nasty business with those churches being ransacked…”

  Griffin was doing a double take. “What do you mean you can hear me from a state away?”

  Joy simply shrugged. Now that he looked closer at her, she seemed to be in her mid-forties. She had been affecting a slouch, and her hair was dark at the roots, bleached white to add to the impression of her age. “I do what I do. Now you’ve been here, I’ll have to move soon.” She sighed. “The Order won’t take a chance that what you claim has happened isn’t what happened, or you’ll be coming back tonight to end it. The whole mess means I’m now likely to be spotted if you aren’t… well.” When she saw the guilt rising on his face, her eyes practically glowed.

  “Ha. You are telling me the truth. I never understood how someone could reach your age without a tell, no I couldn’t. Useful to know, though. If you thought you were on God's work, I’d a never have seen guilt on your face. I’ll take you back to Flynn’s to pick up your stuff. That busybody can’t keep his mouth shut, and I know one of the local priests keeps his ear out for the odd. Sends it up the chain so to speak. Someone’ll drop in on me tonight, for certs.” She looked at the clock as if judging the timing of something. “We’ll go in an hour. Flynn never leaves his house after 5 in the arvo.”

  “So you have time to explain how you know what you know?” asked Brianna.

  Joy turned her glare to her. “No, It means we have time to prepare the house with my meager armory, girl. Let’s get cracking,” She said, draining the last of the brandy and heading towards a well-concealed trap door in the floor.

  Electronic Meeting, High Council of the Order, March 6, 2014.

  “I call a vote for a change of leadership,” came across the speaker.

  “And what justification do you put forth?” Said the shadow-cloaked visage at the center of all their screens, in a calm, measured voice. The calm was a facade. He knew if it this vote were carried they would likely inform the successor to his position to vacate it and take his seat on the council. If it weren't at such a precarious time for their plans, he wouldn’t much care. If there was a stumble now, it was unlikely that the core of the plans, the removal of those with unnatural powers, would come to completion.

  He personally didn’t care for the rest of the program. He didn’t see it as sustainable in the long term. Ten people keeping the leadership of humanity might - maybe -have been possible at one time. It wasn’t anymore. But humanity needed to be cleansed of those with powers that science couldn’t define. The risk of their abilities was too high. If one of the major governments ever found proof of them and recruited them, they could be disastrous for the true humans.

  “The failure to recover the artifacts sought by the Egyptian descendants.” There was a murmur from the other screens. At least that was something he could fight. He’d put deliberate failure points in the plans for after the pogroms. He saw no real value in putting humanity under ten leaders… only one. If he could pull it off, they would suffer accidents or exposure. If one of them had figured out where the plan’s weaknesses were and blamed him, he’d have a harde
r fight.

  None of the ten people on the council trusted each other. All were in it for power and control at some level. He felt he and maybe one or two others saw the threat the powers posed to true humans, though. The others saw them as a group that could be scapegoated to cover other activities.

  “That was a decision voted on… unanimously I might add. Why would the failure of that plan fall solely on me?”

  “Because you haven’t sent a response team!” snapped the same man.

  “The response is to be decided in this meeting. We have already bolstered the numbers loyal to us in the Order by sending appropriate recruits in the face of the new threat. Today I was going to go straight to my planned response, but if you feel it necessary to hold a vote…” The leader leaned back in his chair.

  “Enough. Stop baiting him, Stalin.” A female voice said, using his code name. “And Lincoln, what would the point be? You don’t have the grounds, as Stalin said.”

  “But Rose, he formulated the plan,” Lincoln pointed out.

  “And we all agreed it was the best option. Stop making a power grab, or I WILL move to have your position vacated.” It was not an idle threat. Each member knew three other member’s real identity, and even if she didn’t know his, someone who voted with her likely would.

  “Now. Onto the response. I believe we should send five teams from the Order. Three to track down where the artifacts may have headed. Saladin, I request you have teams going through all travelers from Australia to your region for the past week.”

  “Of course. I have already had my people doing so.”

  “The five teams shall be three Paladins and two support groups. Two shall search for the artifact, two shall go over the investigation by the brothers of St. Michael and make sure that Griffin did not survive. The last thing we need is a rogue Paladin of his skills. If they cannot confirm his death, they shall investigate all unusual activity reports in the region with vigor. If a few must be sacrificed to run him down, so be it.”