Abomination (46 page)
“Why did you not kill him?”
Beatrice looked into the woods as she sought her answer.
“I thought about it. I wanted to. But I thought also about what you said, about the guilt you carried all those years for the men you killed. I didn’t want his death on my conscience.”
She did not recognize the way that he was looking at her now. “Did I do wrong?”
“No,” said Wulfric with pride. “You did right.”
She was still conflicted. “Perhaps it would have been easier on us if I had killed him. He will come after us now.”
Wulfric stood, wrapping the blanket around him. “All the more reason for us to get as far from him as possible.”
“Where will we go?”
He thought, but had no answer. He had spent so many years in transience, with no destination in mind, living without purpose from day to day, moving from place to place, never a thought for tomorrow. Now . . . now he had a purpose, a tomorrow.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
She looked around, considering. “I’ve heard that the highlands to the far north are quite beautiful.”
Wulfric smiled. “So have I.”
She went to the stream to take the horse by its reins, careful how she moved over the uneven terrain with her ankle still troubling her. Her hands were wrapped in linen, also torn from her shirt, to cover the burns she had sustained pulling Wulfric from his nest of ashes.
“Thank you,” he said. “For saving me back there.”
She looked at him warmly. “On that score, I believe we’re even.”
She checked the horse’s saddle, looked up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. Will you . . . I mean, can you—”
“We shall have to see,” said Wulfric. “Cuthbert showed me how to contain the beast, and it seems to have worked well enough so far, but I am still learning. Each night will be a new test. Of one thing I can be sure: if it should come, it will not harm you.”
Venator took to the air as Wulfric pulled himself into the saddle and reached down to help Beatrice up behind him.
One question still puzzled her. “How did you know that it could fly?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “God works in ways mysterious.”
And on they rode.
Wulfric was almost finished with the note. He had taken his time over it, since it was the only one he ever intended to send, and he wanted to make sure that all that needed to be said was said. He rubbed his chin as he looked it over once more. His face felt strange since he had shaved off the beard, though Beatrice kept assuring him that he was far better for it.
He told himself that he was satisfied enough with the note, then put his initial to it. He was no author, but he believed his point was made.
Edgard,
I know that you care for Beatrice, in your way, so know that she is safe and well with me. She is in no danger from the beast. In these past months, I have learned to contain it, to allow it forth only when I bid it, and to control it when I do. Rest assured, it will never harm her—only those who would try to.
I hear word that the Order is to be disbanded by royal decree, and that your remaining time at Canterbury before it is given back to the church is short. I wish you peace on whatever road you next choose to follow, but tell you this: you would be unwise to think of seeking us out. Beatrice has no wish to see you. For that reason, we have
been careful to ensure that you will never find us, and for that reason, too, I am quite certain that you would regret it if you ever should. Truth be told, you have far more to fear from her than you do from me, or the beast.
I know also that Cuthbert has left your service and makes now a new life for himself. He sends us word from time to time that he is well. Should he ever fail to do so, know that you will not need to try to find us. We will find you.
My daughter and I are happy, both of us for the first time in many years. Leave us be. And all will be well.
W.
“Venator, to me.”
The hawk flew to him from his perch outside the humble farmhouse. Wulfric folded the parchment and tucked it into the copper ring around the bird’s ankle, then let him fly. From the rock where he had been sitting, he watched as Venator soared away across the loch toward the highlands beyond until he was gone, swallowed up by the mist.
Wulfric turned back to the farmhouse. It was not much, but then, what more had he ever needed?
What more than her
, he thought, as he looked across the field at his daughter, tilling the soil in preparation for the sowing of a new crop. Just as he had taught her.
She had been a fast learner, already as good a steward of the land as his father had taught him to be. He saw her smile at him as he approached.
So much like her mother
. She planted her spade in the earth so that it stood freely and wiped her brow, happy for a moment’s rest.
“I saw Venator leave,” she said. “It’s done?”
He nodded, surveying the freshly tilled earth. “You have quite the makings of a farmer. As good with that shovel as you ever were with a sword.”
She pulled it from the earth, hefted it. “Not quite as useful in a battle,” she said playfully.
“No,” said Wulfric. “But then a sword never fed anyone.”
She stuck the shovel back into the ground. “What are we planting?”
“Carrots. By autumn, this will all be carrots. Wait and see.” He reached into the pocket of his coat. “Here, I have something for you.” He produced a looped leather cord around which hung a simple pewter pendant set with a bright red gemstone. “I saw this at the market when I went to buy the parchment,” he said, holding it out to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and took it, turning it over in her hand, watching as the gem caught the sunlight.
“What is this stone?” she asked.
“A red garnet,” said Wulfric. “The merchant said it is also called a carbuncle. I remember once I called you that. At the time, I did not know what a beautiful thing it was.”
She blinked back a tear. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Never in my life have I been given anything like this.”
“Never in my life was I given anything like you,” said Wulfric with a smile. “So on that score, I believe we’re even.”
A beetle crept its way up from the plowed earth and along the handle of the spade. Beatrice saw it, allowed it to crawl onto her hand for both of them to see. “What is this one?” She had been trying to stump Wulfric on his knowledge of bugs and beetles since he told her how he had learned them from his father, but she had not managed it yet.
“Common dung beetle,” said Wulfric. “Also known as a scarab beetle.”
He saw her face light up with the simple delight that she took in newfound knowledge, and it brought him a sense of joy that he had not known since he first held her as a baby. He had no idea how to be a father to a daughter. But he would learn. For now, just to be here with her was enough.
I am a father. I have a daughter
.
Yes, it was more than enough.
Abomination
was in large part made possible by the individuals named below, who lent critical early support and patronage via Inkshares. They are hereby inducted as Honorary Members of The Order.
Contra Omnia Monstra!
Adam Gomolin
Alan Hinchcliffe
Austin Wintory
Brian Kirchhoff
Danny Hertz
Emma Mann-Meginniss
Genevieve Waldman
Geoffrey Bernstein
Howard Sanders
Jay Wilbur
Jeff Harjo
Ken Fabrizio
Kevin Becker
Kiki Wolfkill
Laurie Johnson
Linda Wells
Logan Decker
Mace Mamlok
Meggan Scavio
Mekka Okereke
Michael Pachter
Michael Sawyer
Michael Seils
Patrik Stedt
Peter “KmanSweden” Koskimäki
Piotr Jegier
Ray L. Cox
Robbie D. Meadows
Ronald Tang
Samuel Parrott
Simon Kirrane
Steve Lin
Thomas Grinnell
Timothy E. Thomas
Tony Dillon
Tricia Gray
Gary Whitta
is an award-winning screenwriter best known for the postapocalyptic thriller
The Book of Eli
. He was also a writer and story consultant on Telltale Games’ interactive adaptation of
The Walking Dead
, for which he was the co-recipient of a BAFTA award. Most recently he served as a writer on Lucasfilm’s new generation of
Star Wars
projects for film and television.
Abomination
is his first novel.
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—Inkshares