The confusion was there; most call it the fog of battle—so much happening all at once—the battle on the ground as monks desperately fought for their lives, the fire that blazed around the moat and fire that was spewed from the hoses followed by screams of agony, and the tower’s fate, which was obvious with so many directing their attention towards it.
Sebastian set off in a run for the tower. He knew he had to go and help his two closest friends and not let the tower be taken. With blinding speed he ran, and as he came to one battle he gave some small assistance to the four monks there. He held out his sword and as he passed in a flash he took the sword arm of his enemy and his brothers fell over the vampire taking the advantage in an instant.
Closing the distance to the tower, Sebastian leapt into the air and soared toward the wall but not to an empty spot. This spot was already occupied by one climbing the wall. He zeroed in on him and led with his short sword, finding his back and driving in the blade till the tip hit the stone of the wall. Not even taking time to enjoy his victory, he pulled the blade from the shrieking thing, let it drop to the ground, and began his advance up the wall.
His landing on the wall had not been unnoticed; others above looked around hearing the scream from their brother. They would not fall to his fate. Sebastian took no notice of their concentration on him but steadily gained on them. Seeing he was unafraid of their penetrating stares, they continually moved upward, trying to gain the top of the tower before they would have to engage him.
Hoping to fend him off before he could make the top, they waited on the edge. Sebastian was not going to crawl up to his waiting enemies and give them a nice easy target. No, he had better plans. Finding a good grip with his fingers in the creases of the stones of the tower he stretched out to his full arm length, then pulled with his strength and launched himself directly at them like a hurled stone.
The sudden approach was not a pleasant one for the two vampires on the tower; they tried to attack when he reached them. Sebastian flew past them and struck out with his arms, sending the two stumbling backward and landing on the tower’s edge. The two stood up, recovering from the blows to their chest, mere punches, but powerful blows. They each held up their blades that were colored red and they smiled, knowing their attacks had not been in vain: they had found their mark. Sebastian looked down to his arm and side to see great gashes and blood staining his shirt. He felt these wounds; he was not invincible.
Sebastian took quick note of the situation on the tower’s top: Father Donovan and company were all together defending the tower’s edge. He turned his attention back to his latest opponents, who waited.
Looking around, Sebastian located what he wanted; he picked up the large canister and began to walk around the two, pouring out liquid onto the stone floor, circling his newfound friends as they watched with curious expressions. Sheathing his short sword he walked over and picked a large stick lying on the floor. He set the wrapped end into one of the brazier fires and it came to life. He turned back to them and smiled, this time sending a flicker of fear over his enemies. Setting the torch down to the floor, the liquid quickly came to life with the breath of fire encircling the three.
The flicker of fire behind caught Father Donovan’s attention. He looked around to see Sebastian had rejoined them, much to his relief for many reasons. This fight was just beginning. He whispered the good news to Father Lemoine. Father Lemoine gave a quick glance, and his spirit was rekindled, knowing their most potent weapon and very dear friend was alive, if not slightly worse for wear.
Sebastian stepped lightly toward the two vampires, and they held their ground, not wanting to get too close to their new perimeter, the fiery ring. He raised his sword and laid into them. They both parried his attacks, keeping good distance between themselves and the flames. He was measuring them and did not want a long protracted battle. Coming in again, this time low to draw their guard down, he came up high with the torch in a wide arc that came so close to them their eyebrows singed, and they were sent in an awkward backward lurch. He was on them in an instant. Sebastian brought his sword back up and marched forward so strongly he was leaning in on them, keeping them on their heels.
Striking out with his rapier and the torch simultaneously, he kept them backing up and unbalanced, making small slashes across their chests and faces. Finally he lunged forward and down to the ground at their feet, and kicking out with his leg, swept their legs out from under them and sent them into the fire that was licking at their backsides. They screamed and jerked wildly when their clothes caught on fire. He walked over them, dropping the torch and reclaiming his short sword and with a few quick swipes his work was done. He stared at them. The flames on the floor soon died down, not having any more propellant to keep them going; the stone was now scarred with a black ring where they once danced in battle.
Sebastian made his way over to the walls; he looked over to see more coming up toward them. Walking over to one of the braziers, he grabbed the long metal rod and pulled it out of its hold on the wall. Finding his targets who were quickly coming up to the edge, he leaned over and poured the contents of the fiery pot over the edge and onto them. They quickly dropped from the wall, landing on the ground, and running about in flames. This was most effective, and his brothers enjoyed it immensely, so he did it again and again until the walls were blessedly free.
The tower was now quiet as everyone there took a quick breather. Sebastian had quite handily taken care of their mounting problem. The Lonely Tower was almost dark now. Father Lemoine surveyed the scene that now stood out a little more. The lawn of the castle was ablaze in many areas inside the fiery edge of the moat. The moat itself appeared to be something out of many horrific tales; a great deep trench was ablaze from end to end.
They realized they could not stay up here, not with so many still in danger below. Their plans had gone well this night, but once your surprises are gone you must rely on every moment you have to capture victory in the end. The thought of victory was a distant but hopeful one. This thought quickly vanished from their minds as Sebastian made a quick scan of the area and did not find the one figure he was searching for, Baldric. He looked frantically on every side of the tower and was joined by his brothers who soon understood who their friend was looking for. The two things they did see were many fallen bodies and clearly not all from their aggressor’s side. The others were the dark forms making their way into one side of the castle very quietly.
chapter THIRTY-FOUR
FEAR AND FRUSTRATION ruled the thoughts of the twins as they sat huddled in their small room in the lower depths of the monastery. They had been given strict orders, and they had followed those to the letter but now the walls of their small chamber were closing in on them. Over and over their minds played the events as they knew them. They had been sequestered here for protection and to fulfill a job and both had been accomplished. Given the proper signal, they had pulled the lever and had heard the effects of their action even though they were not in a position to see if it, but following tremor and tumultuous sound, they had been given some inclination as to its success. Now they sat in solitude and silence under the protective care of the two guards above them.
Jacob did not like this at all. As safe as he felt at the moment he also felt his conscience working on him hard. How could he not help any more than he already had? Jessica was also brooding over the fact that they could faintly hear the sounds of the conflict outside and they were here, safe and sound.
“This isn’t fair,” Jacob spat the words out.
“I agree,” Jessica added with just a little hesitation, not completely sure she understood what her brother was talking about.
“We are stuck down here not being any use to anyone. We should be out there helping somehow,” Jacob voiced his frustration.
“Maybe it’s best we are down here. Maybe we’d be in the way and cause more harm than good. We don’t know what we are doing and they do. Do you really understand what is out there?” J
essica asked.
“I understand what is out there—our friends—these monks who took us in and taught us new things and are protecting us now. They are more than just friends to us now; we owe them whatever we can do for them.”
“Besides we have more than just good friends out there.” Jacob’s words settled upon her, and the meaning weighed upon her mind and her heart like iron chains.
“We’re going then,” Jessica stood up and grabbed a torch from the wall.
Jacob was proud of his sister but he also knew they were putting themselves in more danger than they had ever been, and he rethought his decision. He rose to join her, realizing this was one of those moments that changes the future; you decide to take a path that leads in an entirely different direction, one that has consequence.
The door was soundly locked, prepared for anything, but they were now going to leave its protective confines to help. Jacob started on the first bolt. It made a loud noise but that was not the strange part: the noise he heard didn’t seem to come from the bolt. He hesitated and the sound came again. This sound was like someone banging on metal. The twins turned when they heard the sound again, and their attention quickly turned to the stone-covered floor. It came again and Jacob went to work rapidly unlocking the door. They would not wait to discover who was coming through that tunnel.
“Hurry!” Jessica prodded.
“I am hurrying,” Jacob said as he worked the bars, watching the floor, expecting the stone to rise as the sounds of banging had stopped. Suddenly their decision to leave and help was a very sound one. It would seem they would be in danger anywhere they went. Sounds from the other side now matched their own. As Jacob finished with the bars the door opened, and their two guards stood ready.
“Someone’s coming through!” Jacob shouted and began to push the monks to hurry up the steps into the tower above.
One with presence of mind closed the door and made to replace the bolts, offering some defense or hindrance. Making their way into the first floor of the tower, they looked around anxiously, trying to decide what to do or where to go. One of the guards went to the other door leading into the monastery and began to work the locks frantically.
The sounds now came from just the other side of the door at the bottom of the stairs, pounding over and over. The twins were now huddled next to the monks working on the door. Who will make it through their door first? Jacob thought.
That thought had not even left his head when a crashing sound came from the outside of the door they were trying to go out. Now they all backed up from both doors and stood in the middle of the room. The pounding came from both sides; there was nowhere to go. Everyone prepared for the inevitable, drawing whatever weapon they could and mustering their courage in the process.
The pounding stopped down below the stairs and now just the other door continually shook with mighty blows that shook dust from its frame. Not really knowing which to pay attention to, they paired off, with Jacob and one guard watching the stairs and Jessica and the other guard watching the outer door.
The stairs were dark. Jessica had taken the only torch, but the darkness appeared to grow beyond the confines of the stairwell. Jacob readied his sword and stood shoulder to shoulder with their guard. A dark figure’s head slowly emerged, inching into the torchlight, revealing their worst expectations punctuated by the pounding of the door behind them.
The figure rose up before them—majestic, frightening, and seemingly victorious. They did not want to advance on the thing but did not want to retreat toward the battering door either; they waited to be set upon. The sounds of the hammering kept rhythm with the footsteps of the one in front of them giving it titanic weight.
That pounding only stopped when the door, with its hinges too battered and its wood too splintered fell to the floor in so many pieces. Jacob could not take his gaze off of the thing in front of him and only prayed the others could keep their backside free from attack, and they would try to do the same. Jessica, however, could see what was coming through that door. Just as her heart was about to give out from the pounding, the first thing she saw was a great wide and wicked blade coming out of the shadow.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat but instead leapt for joy as she saw the large frame of one of her favorite monks here, Father Dagrun. Never before had she seen the monk with a look on his face as she saw now. Usually content and radiating an inner joy, even when barking about his kitchen, now the look was stern and alert.
Father Dagrun strode into the room and stood next to Jacob, blocking much of the light cast by Jessica’s torch. Jacob turned his head a bit to see what was hulking over him. The first thing he saw was the great blade, and he thought he would pass out. But then he recognized who was next to him and also realized what his friend was carrying—the Black Axe. Jacob’s heart literally jumped for joy; he would not be on the receiving end of the thing and knew the gruesome blade’s story was far from over.
The thing in front of them had also stopped its approach as the large monk came to stand before it. Unwilling to wait for any more to enter the fray, the vampire brought to bear a sword from nowhere. Feeling he had lost the advantage, he wanted to take out the large man quickly.
Father Dagrun and Jacob both made attempts to block the strike. Jacob’s missed but Father Dagrun caught the strike with the great blade and pushed it to the side and down to the floor. He then brought the Black Axe to bear over his head, almost reaching the ceiling of the room, and drove it down hard and fast at the body. With lightning reflexes the intruder brought its sword up to parry the attack, but that would not be enough. There would be no stopping the fine and heavy blade of the axe with the force laid into that swing. The Black Axe broke the blade in two easily, but that was not the end of the devastation. The vampire hiding behind that blade would soon feel the force of the attack in full. The sound of the blade breaking was quickly followed by a thud. The large curved blade sank into the chest of the thing and cleaved it almost in two.
“How did you know? How did you know they were coming here?” Jessica asked Father Dagrun.
“We knew they had entered the monastery and I figured they had gone down into the tunnels. I just had a feeling they might end up here and I wasn’t about to let them get to you first—not on my watch,” he said.
Jessica reached out and put her arms around the monk whose food she had fallen in love with and whose simple insight she also loved. He reached down to pat her on the shoulder.
“Where is everyone? How is everything going?” Jacob asked.
“Everyone is scattered to the ends of the castle. I don’t know,” Father Dagrun replied.
chapter THIRTY-FIVE
THE GROUNDS STILL BLAZED with fires here and there as Father Jacques and Father Andrew patrolled around with escorts, setting ablaze anything that moved. While the lawn danced with life by the fire’s light, the tower’s top had gone completely dark.
Inside the monastery all was quiet; the halls appeared devoid of life on every level and had taken on the presence of a place abandoned. But everyone who now survived knew this was a fool’s dream. They would not so abandon their efforts, would they? The battle on the lawn had been a great victory for the defenders, there was no doubt. The force of their enemy had been cut in half with one mighty blow, and the momentum had made a dramatic shift. Monks had taken their fight to the enemy then and had proved their worth many times over.
Activity came to a halt outside. The battle that had come on so forcefully now seemed to be in the distant past. Even with the many small victories that had been witnessed over the fierce battle, they knew the fight was not over. Some of their enemies had disappeared and some had come inside.
Small groups of monks now patrolled the corridors of the castle. They hoped to weed out any hiding, to find any brothers who had been lost or separated from their groups and to hopefully pass the time.
Father Lemoine was leading one of these groups; he and Father Donovan split up, against his wishes. H
e knew they had lost several men this night and that was not unexpected. He was surrounded by three of his best men as they wandered the halls in quiet anticipation. He hoped his big friend who had set out to check on the twins had found things in order. He wished he could have gone with him … but there were many things he wished for that would never come to pass.
Father Donovan set out on his own mission with another small group of monks, their mission unknown. From all reports he had received, Sebastian’s whereabouts were unknown.
The halls were like unfamiliar places; every time they entered a room or walked down a corridor it was like they were doing this for the first time. Father Lemoine wondered how this place would ever feel the same again, but he knew this night was not over, not by a long shot. The future had come and that is what the future does to the present, it changes it forever.
No matter where you started in the castle, if you wandered you always ended up in the same place, here in the heart of it all—the Grand Staircase Hall in the Lonely Tower. They had been searching in most of the monastery and paid a short visit to the armory; Father Lemoine needed a few things but they had, of course, ended up here.
He thought about that and relished the feeling this place always gave him, how he stayed in complete awe with his home, always fascinated with some part of it. They entered the large room like every room they had visited tonight, with caution. His tales came back to him one after the other, fresh in his mind from the recounting to the very inquisitive and attentive twins. With every footstep, he considered himself in mortal danger or at least in danger of becoming a part of one of those stories inexorably linked to that room.
The room felt oblivious to what had occurred all around it tonight, as if it were cut off from the reality of events. The windows were like large glass reflectors catching the light of the moon and the movement of the trees in the wind. There appeared to be a faint shade of red that tinged the edges of the glass that was caught from the fires outside. The floor danced from the things outside that the windows let in. The only thing different was that none of the lights that had been on previously this night were on; they were all dark now, and he was not sure who had put them out. He looked up, and there was the other thing that you could not avoid looking at when entering the vast room; the grand staircase and how grand it truly was. Whoever designed the staircase was exquisitely in love with the thing. The tower was built for it. At one time there was nothing else but the tower and the stairs. He would like to know the source of that love affair; what a marvelous story it would be.
saint Sebastian the Rose Page 32