Sanctuary (Dominion)

by Kris Kramer

  Eventually, he tired of beating me and tried to use his magic to get what he wanted. He brought two of his servants inside, and instructed them to cut my hair and my fingernails. One held me down while the other pulled my hair back into a short ponytail, which he proceeded to chop off. He put the hair in a large wooden bowl, then gripped my hands and used a knife to saw off the edges of my fingernails, leaving most of my fingers bloody in the process. The nails were also thrown in the bowl, which Lorcan kept protectively near the hearth. He told me that the hair and nails would give him power over me, in case I tried to run away or harm him. He claimed he could control my soul with these items.

  He sent the men away again, then grabbed a copper tin and pulled out a handful of some black mixture of mud and what I could only assume from the smell was dung. He smeared it on my face and neck, and the stench caught in my throat, making me gag while Lorcan laughed at me.

  "You will not tell me your secrets, so you must be blinded to them yourself. The salve blocks you from God's vision. He can't see you now, and that's why you choke. I will free you from servitude to Him."

  In hindsight, it was ridiculous, but he believed it fervently, and at the time I couldn’t help but fear he might be right. I begged for help, causing Lorcan to yank my hair until I stopped. He hobbled over and grabbed a piece of kindling from his fire, and with a wave of his hand flames crackled at the end.

  "The fire is cleansing." He circled it around my head and tiny dots of flame appeared in front of my eyes, hanging in the air briefly before dissipating. "I'm burning the taint from your soul, priest. It covers you like filth, but the flames will reveal your true self.” He kept the torch close, and sparks popped all around me. I cowered, protecting my face and head with my arms. “You will feel the heavy burden of the Christian lies lift from your shoulders, and you will know freedom." I fell, burying my face in the ground. My leg pulled on the rope, testing it, because I wanted to run away from this madman. "And your God will do nothing to stop it, because He knows the deception His Christians live under."

  “Please…” I tried to make myself as small as possible but his menace still found me.

  “Quiet,” he said, in a voice both soothing and sinister. “It will be easier that way.”

  The tent flap flew open, mercifully halting Lorcan’s rant, and both of us turned to see an Irishman stride regally into the tent. He was a tall, well-built man, adorned in jewelry and furs, and he had long, blond hair that hung freely over his shoulders, and a short, neatly-trimmed beard. His deep set blue eyes were surrounded by lines and wrinkles in his tanned face, which made him seem older than he really was, but his build was that of a man who had seen, and survived, many battles. Lorcan sighed at the interruption, almost imperceptibly, before bowing his head slightly to the visitor.

  "Don't you ever tire of your tent smelling like shit?" the man said.

  "As I've told you many times, my lord, the material I keep has its uses, no matter how offensive it may be."

  He grunted in disgust, then looked at me. "Making your guests comfortable?" he asked.

  Lorcan frowned. "You know where I found them?"

  "I was told."

  "He claims to be a priest, but he lies,” Lorcan eyed me accusingly. “He has power in him, power he refuses to show me."

  I dared to glance up at the man as he watched me and in that instant our eyes met I saw contempt, but also curiosity. He frowned at me and then turned to Avaline.

  "That's her?"

  "Yes, lord," Lorcan answered. "I was able to bring her back."

  "Does this mean no more delays? Winter is almost here, and we aren't equipped to wait it out."

  "It does, my lord. Now I can take her to the dungeon and we can perform our work there. Everything will proceed much faster, and I know how eager you are to see your army ready."

  He nodded. “What about him?"

  "He is nothing but a liar. He tried to hide her in a church, and claimed that God protects them, but I sniffed them out. My power is far greater than his, my lord. And I will prove it."

  “Why is he even alive?”

  Lorcan sneered at me. “He has a power over the woman that I must understand first. One that he refuses to explain. Once I know what it is, I can split his belly and feed his entrails to the ravens.”

  "If you say so,” the man seemed uninterested in Lorcan’s diatribes. “Has Ruark seen him, yet?"

  “No, my lord. He doesn’t know. Shall I send a messenger to his camp?”

  “No. He’ll find out later.”

  “Of course, my lord. A wise decision, as always.”

  The man looked at my face and winced. "Are you done with your rituals?"

  Lorcan hesitated. "For now."

  "Then leave us a moment."

  Lorcan’s eyes widened in surprise. "My lord, I must warn you against his trickery. And hers. She-"

  "I'm not a child,” he scowled at the sorcerer. “I can speak to the priest without your help."

  Lorcan seemed dubious, but he bowed his head and retreated from the tent, probably waiting right outside the entrance. The newcomer, who Lorcan called sire, continued to stare at me in disgust, like I was a rotted piece of meat. Finally, he grabbed a wadded up piece of cloth nearby and walked over to a basin of water. He dropped it in the water, rung it out, then tossed it to me.

  “Clean yourself,” he said. I eagerly did as he instructed, ignoring the jabs of pain from my raw fingertips.

  "Do you know who I am?"

  I shook my head. “No, sire.”

  "I am Cullach. I lead this tribe of warriors. You were found on our island, hiding in a church with a woman that Lorcan claims is his. Can you explain yourself?”

  “I only came to find her," I said, wiping the salve from my face and hands, “to find Avaline, and help her. I was told you were here before I arrived, and I knew the danger, but I came anyway. I had to try and help her. Sire.”

  Cullach nodded thoughtfully and sat on Lorcan's stool. “You sound like a kind man. But I don’t believe in kind men. Kindness is a mask that hides a devious soul.” He stared at me, and I sensed an undercurrent of anger from him that made me stop what I was doing. “Are you a spy? Are you scouting for Rhodric?” He squinted at me suspiciously. “Or are you only here to preach to us, and tell us how we need to be punished for our sins?"

  "Neither, lord. I came to find the woman. That is all I meant to do."

  "The woman?" He glanced at Avaline in disgust. She lay still on the floor, but her eyes were open, staring off in the distance between Cullach and myself. "This one?"

  "Yes, lord. I heard about her from the man you caught named Ewen. I thought I could ease her sickness. That's the only reason I’m here."

  Cullach smiled, though it was anything but sincere. "Keep in mind, priest, that I do not suffer your kind, and neither do my men. Priests are unable to do anything but spew words, and spies are only here to appease me until they can plunge a dagger in my back. So let me explain the punishment you will endure if you try either one. One word from me and Lorcan will torture you for days, and it won't be the silly little rituals of today.” Cullach waved his hand dismissively at the tin with the salve in it. “He will open you up, pull out your organs, and bathe in your blood. You'd be begging him to die before he finished… if only he hadn’t already sewn your mouth shut just to keep your magic from saving you. So keep your proverbs to yourself and you may yet live."

  I nodded, and said nothing.

  "Good. You're learning already." Cullach rose and left without another word, and I started breathing again. Lorcan stepped in immediately after.

  "I tire of this game, priest, but we will play again. Soon." He paced about the tent, watching me carefully. Then, he grabbed a pouch off the floor and poured my hair and fingernails into it. "Perhaps tomorrow. You will see my power tomorrow, and you will fear me. You will question your God, and you will find that He has no answers.” He cinched the pouch and tied it to his belt. “Tomorrow, I w
ill watch you squirm."

  Chapter 22

  After Lorcan left the tent, I huddled against the center beam, staying near the hearth for warmth, and letting myself finally succumb to the fear and guilt that had tormented me all morning. Tears came to my eyes, but they were tears of shame and impotence. I’d been warned not to come here, by Ewen, by Eadwyn, by everyone in Wales, but I’d ignored all of it. My blind, stubborn pride brought me to this island, all in the service of God and His plan for me. And what did I have to show for it? I was tied to a pole in the tent of a vengeful sorcerer, covered in dung, suffering threats to my life for the sins of those who came before me. And worst of all, because of my arrogance I’d lured Ewen right back into the nightmare he’d already escaped. His soul was at stake, and I could never forgive myself if he suffered for my sins.

  Of all the nightmares that plagued me since Rogwallow, this one was the worst, because this one I couldn’t just wake up from.

  The tent flap opened again, and the old woman came in, carrying a bucket of water, a wash basin, and some cloth rags. At first I thought she’d come to help me clean myself, but instead she just frowned at me, and sat everything down next to Avaline. She poured some of the water into the basin, dipped a rag in, wrung it out and used it to clean Avaline’s face, ignoring me completely, while Avaline lay quiet on the floor, staring at a goat skull hanging on the wall next to her. Partly out of embarrassment, I turned away and did my best to finish cleaning my face and arms, although by now my will was sorely lacking. After several long, uncomfortable moments of scrubbing, I decided to break the silence.

  “I’m Daniel,” I said. She glanced at me then returned to her washing. I didn’t know the customs of pagan Irish, so I wasn’t sure if she wasn’t allowed to talk to me, or if she might just be afraid of me. “You have nothing to fear. I’m no danger.”

  “How fortunate for me,” she replied, catching me off guard with her smooth tone.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend.” The woman continued to stay silent. “I don’t know your name.”

  “I haven’t told you.” She soaked her rag again then wiped behind Avaline's ears and down to her neck.

  “I see. Again, I apologize. I’m only trying to be polite.” I went back to half-heartedly wiping my arms clean.

  “That’s how it always starts, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Men of God. Priests. You start by showing up uninvited and being ‘polite’ while preaching stories from your Bible. You come to show us the glory and wisdom of God, but you end with those you call pagan heretics strung up by their neck and your hands clutching everything they once owned.” Her words were casual, yet biting. She spoke as if she’d lived them.

  “My lady, I can assure you that I am not here to hurt anyone, or to take anything I didn’t already bring with me.”

  “No,” she said. “You’re just here to be polite. That’s why you deign to speak to someone like me. Right before you denounce me for heresy.” The woman was scrubbing Avaline’s face now, but her annoyance with me caused her to push a little too hard, and Avaline winced.

  “Are you a heretic?” I asked. I hadn’t intended to be confrontational, but after the terrible morning I’d had, I couldn’t help but needle her back. She turned to me, and the hatred in her eyes caused me to look away. “Sorry. This morning has been a little bit unnatural,” I explained.

  “Leave it to a priest to think of pagans as unnatural,” she muttered, and returned to her scrubbing.

  “I can see that you’ve not had pleasant dealings with Christians before, but I am not them. I’m not here to cause harm, and I’m certainly not trying steal from you. I only came for her,” I said, motioning to Avaline.

  “For her? Why? To claim her as a witch, or a devil, or a whore? Which sin suits your purpose this day?” She shrugged. “What does it matter? Her punishment will be the same either way. You’ll just burn her alive for her wickedness.”

  “No,” I said, shocked. “I would never do any such thing. I came here to help. You have to believe me. I just want to understand what she is.”

  "What she is, is a woman, who suffers from a sickness that she didn’t ask for nor deserve. What else is there to know?"

  A lot, I wanted to say. Avaline wasn’t sick. I'd seen the darkness inside her, same as Ewen. And this woman knew something about it. “Maybe you're right.” I leaned back against the post in defeat. “But I had to try.”

  I sat in silence, as did the woman. Avaline’s occasional grunts and hums were the only sounds in the tent, other than a shout from some men outside and the stamping of a few horses. I could feel the woman’s irritable glances in my direction but I ignored them, choosing instead to look at Avaline. I found myself wondering if this would have happened to Ewen had he not escaped.

  “I am called Sefrid.”

  I looked at the old woman, but she deliberately avoided my gaze, focusing on brushing the tangles out of Avaline’s hair with a wooden comb.

  “Sefrid. That’s a beautiful name. Briton or Irish?”

  “Briton, of course.” She frowned again, as if I’d asked a silly question.

  “Are you with Lorcan? His wife?”

  She made a sound that could be either a sarcastic laugh or a pitiable grunt. “No. Not his wife. Lorcan is a dangerous, evil little man, who’s already seen two wives die by his hand. I am not here to be his third.”

  “So you’re his servant?”

  She smiled. “I suppose he thinks of me as such. Lorcan has much to teach those of us who are willing to learn.”

  “You’re a… a sorceress?”

  “I am a Druid.” She stared at me defiantly, expecting a rebuke, but she received none.

  “A Druid,” I repeated, staring back in astonishment. Now I understood her anger. Druids had suffered for centuries at the hands of first Romans and then Christians. I wondered if that’s where her scars came from, though I didn’t ask. I’d managed to get her to tell me her name, which was no small feat, and I didn’t want to follow that small miracle by bringing up bad memories. “Is that what Lorcan is? Does that mean you can do what he does?”

  “He is not one of us,” she nearly spat with contempt, though I didn’t think it was directed at me. “He may have followed the old gods once, but no longer. His magic is different now.” Sefrid pulled the comb through a tangle, causing Avaline to wince again. “And yes, I can do many things, but I am not here to perform for your amusement. I’m only here to see to it that she’s clean.”

  “I see. I didn’t mean to pry.” I did. I had a hundred questions for her. I wanted to ask her about Druid magic, if it was real, how she conjured her spells, how many others might be around these lands, but I thought it better to wait and catch her in a more forgiving mood. If she had one.

  “Then don’t.” Sefrid dropped the comb in the water bowl along with her rag. She appeared to be finished, and when I looked at Avaline I was suitably impressed. Her hair still had a few tangles but it was straight enough to be presentable, and her skin clean enough to see that her cheeks were rosy from the scrubbing, which stood out severely from her pale face.

  “She could have been a beautiful woman,” I said.

  “She is a beautiful woman,” Sefrid replied, harshly. She stood and carried the bowl and the bucket to the tent entrance. Before leaving, however, she stopped, pulled out one of the wet rags, and threw it at me. “You’ll need that.” She left before I could thank her.

  *****

  Avaline fell asleep shortly after Sefrid left, though she didn’t stay that way for long. Some nearby shouting startled her awake, and while she continued to lie on the ground, her eyes stayed open, staring at nothing. After finally cleaning myself of the remnants of Lorcan’s repugnant salve, I watched her for some time, wondering about the mysteries that surrounded her. Who had she been before this happened? I don’t know why I knew this, but I was confident she hadn’t been born this way. Something happened to her. Something mad
e her this way.

  She must have been married. I imagined her to be the wife of a tradesman, perhaps a woodworker, with three children. I had no evidence for any of this, but the notion seemed right, and thinking of her living a normal life seemed to make me feel better. But then I thought of the vision I had when I tried to heal her, of the beast in her village, and I wondered if any part of it were true. The beast wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But the destruction was believable. Something or someone destroyed her village, along with her family. And I wished with all my heart that she could tell me about it.

  "Avaline?" I said. Her eyes twitched, and she almost looked directly at me before settling her gaze on the wall past my shoulder. "You can hear me, can't you?" Her eyes twitched again, and I took that for a sign that I was at least getting through to her. "Can you shake your head if you understand me?"

  Her head didn’t move but her hand snaked out hesitantly along the ground, reaching for me. I took her hand in mine, and then she sighed and her body relaxed.

  "What I did to you, it helped, didn't it? Maybe not completely, but it made a difference. I only wish I'd been able to do to you what I did to Ewen. Or what God did through me. At least enough for you to speak to me."

  Suddenly, visions flashed before my eyes, dark ones, just like those I'd seen last night, and I jerked my hand away in surprise. I blinked, trying to reorient myself, and I looked at Avaline but she continued to lay on the ground, just as she had before. Had it happened again? Or had I imagined it? I wasn’t sure, at first, but I heard Avaline exhale deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath. She reached for me again, but I didn't take her hand. Instead, I moved away, as far as the rope holding my leg would allow me.