Stoc (A New Druids Series Book 3)

by Donald D. Allan

  "Didn't care then. I do now."

  "We should head in."

  "What do you expect to happen inside?"

  "I'm not certain, to be honest. The worst most likely. The Church is rotten from within. This Sect. Never heard of them and now it seems they are everywhere. What Seth and the demon Erebus said in Jaipers. It haunts me."

  "Will said the Sect wiped out the druids. With the Lord Protector and Archbishop's blessing. Killed them all. Hunted them like animals. Tortured them. Wiped out families. Bloodlines, he said. No one knew. All covert. Secret and right under our noses. What could lead men to do something like that? War, I understand. But killing your own people? Women and children? Seth, he was a right crazed fool. Frightening that someone's faith in God could lead to that."

  "Which is why I am here, James."

  "To kill them? Is that why we are here? Armed and about to enter a building we assume will be hostile?"

  "Perhaps. We are military men and manage violence. Prepare for the worst and expect everything to go south as soon as we engage the enemy."

  "Your brother introduced those teachings at Tactics."

  "He wrote the class."

  "He's brilliant. You would have thought it would run in the family, eh?"

  "Bugger off."

  James rubbed at his neck, strained from looking up for so long. He gathered his long cloak around him. Underneath, like Brent, he wore his armour and short sword. The past week at the house had been a boon to Ness and her children. James had chopped the entire wood pile and they now had more than enough wood stacked for winter. Brent had patched the outer walls and removed most of the drafts. Brent and James had hammered together a wooden floor where the children and Ness slept to get them off the dirt floor. Leaks in the roof had been sealed tight and already the house was warm and comfortable within. The children had rosy cheeks, and laughter—combined with full bellies—filled the house. Ness had stopped complaining as much and was ordering the two of them about like vassals. She handed out chores whenever one occurred to her. It was madness. James was glad to be finally clear and doing something else.

  "Rules of engagement?"

  Brent looked around to make sure no one was near enough to overhear. "As discussed. They attack, we respond. We will not instigate anything."

  "You won't mind spilling blood in your church?"

  "No. It's a building, James. Faith is between you and God. A church is a building. Nothing more. The actions of these men must be stopped. Their judgement is coming. It is why we are here. If it comes to blows, so be it."

  "Alright. Lead on, my general. I have your back."

  They climbed the steps two at a time and Brent moved to the small inset door within the large double doors of the entrance. James turned to watch the street. No one paid them any notice. "Clear," whispered James.

  Brent pushed the door open and entered the narthex. James swept in behind him and they moved apart to allow themselves room to draw swords if needed. The sudden quiet from the noise of the street was in complete contrast. The air was much warmer than outside, but their breath still clouded the air. They looked out over the nave and crossing. The cathedral appeared deserted. The raised dais high up on the faraway apse held a large cleared table. High above the apse was a large ornate dome. Light streamed through the stained-glass and gave the entire worship area an ethereal quality.

  Brent strode down the centre aisle of the nave and heard James take step behind him a good fifteen feet away. He scanned the right side of the nave. "Clear to the right."

  "Clear to the left," replied James.

  Brent stopped at the crossing and heard James stop to keep his distance. He looked left and then right into the transepts off the crossing. There was an opening at the back of the right transept that led to inner offices of the cathedral. They had discussed how to best search the building and agreed to remain together and head downwards. If the Sect was headquartered here, they reasoned they would be located in the basement.

  James came closer to Brent with his back to him and looked into the dark transept to the left. "What's in there?"

  Brent followed his gaze. "The transept. We're standing on the crossing. The left transept represents Preservation, the right Destruction. The crossing here represents Creation. It is the triad of the faith of the Church of the New Order."

  "Three seems common."

  "It is. Sometimes it is referred to as mother, father and child. Or past, present and future."

  "Did you know the druids call it life, death and rebirth?"

  "What? No. Who told you that?"

  "Nadine. I was asking about that weird symbol on your amulet. She explained it represented life, death and rebirth. Sounds a lot like your Church. Is that why it's on your amulet?"

  Brent said nothing and headed to the opening at the back of the transept and peered around the corner. A large room lay beyond with chairs and tables. Additional worship icons covered the walls. Brent ignored all this and moved to the hallway that led from the room deeper into the building. The hallway had many smaller rooms it fed into. Large openings ornately cut into the Cathedral walls allowed the daylight to brighten the rooms. They stopped at each door and opened them to peer inside. They advanced down the corridor until they found the offices of the Dean.

  Brent paused here and looked at the name in gold gilt on the door. He reached up and touched it. He looked back at James who arched an eyebrow back at him. Brent shook his head and opened the door, peered inside, and then closed the door and moved on. James paused by the door and glanced at the name: Dean Andrew Strong.

  A large opening provided access to a stairwell leading up and down. The staircase was enormous. Four men could climb the stairs shoulder to shoulder. Brent peered up then down the stairwell.

  "No one," he said.

  "It's too quiet. How is a building this size this empty?"

  "No one goes to church anymore, James."

  "Yes, well, someone has to run this place. Clean it and the like."

  "True. It is odd."

  "Who is Dean Strong?"

  "What?"

  "Dean Strong, the name on the door back there. Who is he?"

  "The Dean, I suspect."

  "You know him?"

  "No. Never heard of him. Look, I know we said we would head straight down but I am thinking we should check upstairs first. Make sure no one is above us."

  "Fair. After you."

  Brent moved to the stairs and climbed the stairs two at a time. They wore soft leather shoes and made no noise. They kept their armour covered but one hand remained on their sword hilts.

  Over the next hour they scoured the upper floors. Large rooms filled with ornate furniture spread out from floor to floor. A large balcony overlooked the choir area forward of the apse. All-in-all, the cathedral towered four stories high. Rising above the cathedral, they climbed each corner tower and paused at the top of each to admire the view and to catch their breath. In time, they returned to the stairs leading down to the sub-levels.

  "I'm knackered," wheezed James, his breath boiling out thick clouds in the cold air. "Maybe we should have gone straight down. Too tired to fight now."

  "Poor baby," panted Brent. He looked about and then glanced down the stairwell. "This is crazy. Where is everyone?"

  "I know, right? Can I remind you I said the exact same thing an hour ago?"

  "Shut up. Let's catch our breath. Did you bring any water?"

  "No."

  "Damn."

  The stood in silence, each keeping an eye on the corridors. After a time, Brent moved to the stairs and made his way down. James waited until Brent reached the landing below before starting down.

  The first sublevel stairwell landing was lit with two torches. The rest of the level was pitch black. They grabbed extra torches from the supply basket placed beside the wall and lit two and explored the darkened level. The rooms they found proved the floor to be more of a living space. Large rooms with empty beds, offices, a
nd a massive kitchen dominated the floor. The beds had no sheets and the kitchen and pantry were empty. They returned to the stairwell.

  "Stranger still," said Brent.

  "Torches were lit here though," replied James.

  "Yes, someone is here. Empty beds and an empty larder though. If the Sect is here, I would have thought to see signs of occupancy."

  "I'm thinking they aren't here in the Cathedral."

  "Same," agreed Brent. "Let's keep moving. Someone has to be here."

  They carried their torches and moved to the next sub-level. Torches lit only the immediate area. Beyond was more dark corridors. They paused and listened for any sound.

  James looked down the stairs. "Nothing here. Skip this floor and keep moving down?"

  "Agreed. Torches will light the way I am thinking."

  They descended two more levels before the stairwell ended at the start of a massive long corridor. The end of the corridor could not be seen as it disappeared into darkness. They exchanged torches for newer ones and started down the hallway. The air was now warm and damp and carried a faint scent of mustiness. A faint dripping sound echoed from somewhere up ahead. They walked for about a hundred feet before stopping. Their torches let them see no more than fifty feet or so in front and behind them. The walls were damp and the stonework rough. The dripping sound was louder.

  "What do you think?" asked James in a whisper.

  "Not sure, we keep going obviously. You notice the floor slants down slightly?"

  "Now you mention it, yes. I am pretty sure we are out from under the Cathedral, too."

  "Yes, under the Library now I think."

  "Hidden passage between them?"

  "No, not hidden. Perhaps just a servant corridor or something," mused Brent.

  "Perhaps. Never seen anything like this. This place is huge. Bigger than the castle in Munsten."

  "No, not bigger. You don't know the castle like I do."

  "Right, who am I to question the General of the Lord Protector's Guard? Must be nice to only have to guard one thing."

  "Have you always been this much of an ass?"

  "Yes."

  "'Nuff talk." Brent started down the hallway toward the sound of dripping. After a few feet, their torches lit up a bend in the corridor. They rounded the corner and found the hall ended with a set of narrow stone stairs leading up. Without a word, they climbed the steps and found themselves in a small room with an opening on the far side. A cistern was inset in the right stone wall, water from above it dripped and was producing the sound they heard.

  "Shall we?" asked Brent.

  "After you."

  Brent moved toward the far opening when a grating sound reverberated through the stone. An iron portcullis slammed down in the opening ahead of them at the same time one slammed down behind them sealing them in. James cried out and rushed to the portcullis behind them. He threw his torch to the floor and grabbed the gate with both hands and heaved. It held fast. Brent moved cautiously to the portcullis ahead of them and peered through the bars.

  "A light approaches," he said.

  James rushed over and put his back to the wall next to the tight side of the barred opening. He drew his sword and held it in front of him.

  "We appear to be trapped, James."

  "Appears so."

  In a moment, the light showed that the corridor beyond the opening turned sharply to the right. The light stopped moving just around the bend and a voice called out.

  "Hello."

  Brent looked at James and raised an eyebrow. James made a wry grin. "Answer him, Brent. They know we're here."

  "Um, hello there. Can you let us out, please?"

  "Who are you?"

  "Worshipers. Enjoying the church."

  "Worshipers normally stay up in the nave and don't go wandering down in areas they don't belong," replied the voice. It was a man's voice and confident sounding.

  "Can you come out into the light so we can see you?" asked Brent.

  "In time, first I need to understand why you are here. What are you looking for?"

  Brent looked at James and whispered. "What do I tell him?"

  "The truth?"

  "So you suggest I say, 'Hi, we killed your leader and now we want to sort you lot out?'"

  "Well, not exactly in those words, but sure. Get us out of here, Brent, say whatever you like. Convince them."

  "Just so you know," said the voice around the corner. "We can hear everything you say. We've been monitoring you since you came into the Cathedral. I think it's time we had a talk. I need you to take out your swords and your knives and throw them down the corridor toward me. Then I will ask you to lie face down on the floor with your hands behind your head. Only then will the grate open. Several of my men will come in and tie your hands together. You will then be escorted elsewhere and we will talk. In case you were wondering, I have absolutely no problem just letting the two of you rot in there. Your choices are compliance or a long slow death. You have one minute to decide. This offer will be made only once."

  Brent looked long and hard at James. "Sorry, James."

  "Nothing to be sorry about." James sheathed his sword and undid the belt. He pulled out his waist dagger and then passed both through the bars of the portcullis and tossed them down the corridor toward the voice. Brent hesitated a moment and did the same.

  "Boot knives too please," said the voice.

  James and Brent pulled out their boot knives and added them to the other weapons.

  "Anything else?" asked the voice. "If we find other weapons on you, it will not go favourably for you."

  James looked at Brent and then pulled another knife from his tunic and added it to the other. He hesitated for a moment and then pulled a wire garrotte from a pocket and threw that down the corridor.

  "A garrotte?"

  "You never know."

  "Hmm. True."

  "Shall we?"

  "By all means."

  Brent and James moved to the centre of the room and lay down on their stomachs and placed their hands behind their heads. The portcullis was slowing cranked up from some mechanism behind the walls. The loud clanking of metal on a gear vibrated through the floor. In time it stopped and without a sound Brent and James were suddenly looking at black leather boots. Brent tried to raise his head to comment when a hard rap on the back of his head stole his consciousness.

  Brent woke to hooded blackness and a pounding headache. He could feel the cloth over his head. He was on a hard chair with his hands tied behind his back and his feet trussed to the chair legs. Thankfully, his mouth was free, and he licked his lips to moisten them. "James?"

  "He's here. Beside you. Still unconscious, I'm afraid. Softer skull than you. He's fine for now," replied the same voice from the corridor. The voice was just in front of him and close by.

  Brent struggled briefly and felt the ropes binding him tighten in response. It felt like they were alive and fear stabbed through him. He felt the wrongness of the ropes like he might smell smoke from a fire.

  "The more you struggle the more they tighten. I've seen men lose their hands and feet. I would relax. Good advice and freely given."

  "You ask me to relax when you have us restrained and threaten us."

  "Yes, I do, Brent Bairstow. You and James Dixon. Late from Munsten. Former military men. Sent on a task to fetch a chest of gold in Jaipers."

  Brent sat still and said nothing.

  "We know all about you, Brent Bairstow. We saw what happened in Jaipers. We were there. We have been following you since you escaped. Trailed you along the river until you stepped ashore. Followed you to that farm and watched you kill our leader, Seth."

  Brent remained silent and thought furiously.

  "So now we find you here in the Cathedral. What are you looking for here, Brent Bairstow?"

  "God."

  A laugh came from the voice. "God? What makes you think that God is here, or that He expects you?"

  "My faith. God calls me. I
have answered. He brought me here."

  Brent waited for a reply but there was only silence. Brent strained to hear breathing but heard nothing other than James next to him. He breathed normally. Asleep, most likely, thought Brent. And alive, thank God.

  "What happened at the farm?" asked the voice.

  "Were you there?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you know what happened. Why ask me?"

  "What happened in Jaipers?"

  "Were you not there, too?"

  "I was not present. It was reported to me. Something happened in Jaipers. What was it?"

  "Your men were there. They would have told you."

  "Enough!" said the voice. Brent could hear anger in the tone. "Answer!"

  "Or what? Will you start to remove my fingers again? Threaten to kill me?"

  "No, we will harm your friend instead."

  Brent paused. James had discussed this with him at the house. He had told him this could happen and how he wanted him to respond. Brent sighed. "You cannot use my friend against me. I have sworn to him I would not allow his life to come between me and my God. I have sworn to God that I will honour that. Harm him and know my vengeance will be swift. I will strike you all down."

  The voice laughed. "And we are to believe that? We are to leave him alone based on your word alone? Do you take us for fools?"

  "Yes. I do. You believed you were following God. You killed and tortured hundreds. Families. Children. You followed a man so corrupt he raised men from the dead to his bidding. You heard about the creature at the farm. The demon from Hell. Erebus. Why do you not speak of it? You have been led by demons. It is you who are the abomination. You are evil."

  Brent waited for an answer. Moments later he heard a door open and then softly close. Whoever they are, they move with no sound. He waited, and an hour passed. He called out, but no one answered. He hung his head and prayed for a time.

  A little later he heard James stirring. When his breath quickened, he spoke fast. "Relax, James. Don't struggle. The bonds tighten as if alive. We are tied up and being interrogated."

  "Oh, is that all?" slurred James.

  "Are you okay? You have been out much longer than I."

  "No. They hit me pretty hard. I think I taste blood. I put up a good fight after they clubbed you. Haha. Took one down. He won't walk anytime soon. His nuts are up in his mouth."