Sanctuary (Dominion) (28 page)

At some point, I stopped fighting, and simply withdrew into myself. I could see everything happening around me, but I viewed it with a detached sense of awareness that kept me from feeling the full brunt of whatever darkness resided in this place. It still threatened to overwhelm me, but instead of pushing against it, I let it carry me, like a leaf floating on the wind.

“Keep up, priest. We’re not done yet.”

I heard Lorcan’s voice, but when I turned to him I saw only his black, soulless eyes, floating in the ether around me. He looked back at me, and it was impossible to mistake the horrifying, unending darkness he carried within him. I recoiled in terror, and fell to the floor, scrambling away as fast as I could, but I did it instinctively. The pain in my mind made it impossible to comprehend what I saw, or to formulate a way out. I could only scream, and crawl away, while the darkness emanating from his eyes filled the tunnel, surrounding me in an icy grip. I heard another voice then, a deep one, from somewhere below. I couldn’t hear the words, but I had no problem understanding what came after them. Laughter. The devil himself laughed at me.

Chapter 24

The world was dark and terrible. Heavy winds buffeted me, pushing me sideways as I cowered amongst the black, jagged rocks with edges sharp enough to cut skin and points that seemed eager to impale me. The rocks were scattered about the base of a towering black mountain, taller than any mountain I’d ever seen, so tall, in fact, that I couldn’t see the top because it disappeared into the roiling grey clouds that covered the crimson sky. Lightning flashed throughout the desolate land, each strike illuminating the hard, lifeless soil that stretched out ahead of me for miles, each speck of dirt the color of blood.

Ahead of me, a whirling vortex of wind, sand, gravel and rock twisted up into the sky, lifting everything nearby into the air. Rocks, bones, even boulders flew about, circling the funnel for a moment, only to be sucked into it, and carried up into the clouds, never to be seen again. The vortex claimed everything, and now, as if sensing my presence, it moved toward the mountain, toward the only thing protecting me, if I could even call it that.

“
Welcome back
,” a voice boomed across the land, louder than the wind or the thunder. The vibration of the words shook my bones, making me queasy, even though I knew this was only a dream. I cringed and made myself as small as possible, though I suspected this terrible land had no place for me to hide. I don’t know why I thought the rocks would protect me, but I couldn’t imagine that walking out into the open would be any better.

“
We play our game once more
.” The voice spoke to me, but I didn’t dare say anything back, for fear that I’d be found. The wind tugged at me, a sign that the vortex was getting closer, so I darted to the larger rocks behind me, at the base of the mountain, and I discovered a cave, filled with blackness so thick that it threatened to engulf me if I stepped inside. Even so, I was tempted to run in and hide, that is until I saw a pair of giant red eyes appear from deep within its bowels.

“
But this time will be different
,” the voice rumbled. “
This time, I’ve changed the rules.
”

The red eyes growled, and I backed away, feeling the wind wrap around me, desperately trying to yank me away.

“
This time, I shall drink deeply from the chaos sown in my wake.
”

The voice laughed, and the world shook. I felt my feet leave the ground, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the wind whipped at my face. My arms were leaden, useless, as were my legs, which flailed about in the air. I could only feel the gusts tearing my body apart, and the thunderous booming cracking my bones. My body was ripped to pieces, and I ceased to be in this world, but not before knowing that a face stared back at me from within the vortex – the smiling face of my enemy.

*****

I awoke, with a cry of despair caught in my throat. My vision was blurry, my heart raced, and my head pounded as if being drummed with a hammer, from the inside. Once I finally calmed myself, and focused on my surroundings, I recognized Lorcan’s tent, and never was I so glad to find myself in that crazed sorcerer’s dwelling. I think I could have woken chained to a wall in a Frankish prison and I’d still be ecstatic to be on real and solid ground.

Avaline lay next to me, asleep, but when I saw her, I recoiled. The image of her holding Ewen's face as his humanity disappeared turned my stomach, and my first instinct was that I’d been played for a fool all this time. I’d let myself believe she was only a sick woman who needed to be healed. I'd forgotten that her touch put the demon in his head. Lorcan made it all happen, but Avaline was his tool, and now, I didn't know what to make of her.

Lorcan. He’d shown his true self in there. The demon held him in thrall, like Caenwyld, only Lorcan's methods were far more terrible. Caenwyld brought misery and death in his wake, but Lorcan twisted life itself. Some malevolent force resided within both of them, the same that seemed to fill that cursed dungeon. The evil I’d witnessed in there, and in that dream, was more potent than anything I’d felt in my life. Something stirred in those depths, maybe even the demon himself, commanding Lorcan to bring him souls to destroy.

"Awake now?" he asked, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The sorcerer sat on the floor behind me, legs crossed, leaning over a collection of bones. I didn't answer. I tried not to even look directly at him, afraid of what I might see. "It's about time. I’ve been waiting since yesterday to speak to you. Priest.”

He struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his cane, then he walked over to me and stared down at my prone body for a long moment. Suddenly, he crouched, grabbing my robes and pulling me close. "You felt it, didn't you?" he whispered, his breath stinking of cabbage and onions. "You felt the power. He was inside you, wasn't he?" I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut. I didn't want to face him. "Tell me, you spineless turd!” He shook me. “Tell me!"

I said nothing, refusing to relive those moments. He threw me back to the ground with a strength that belied his appearance. He paced in a circle around my huddled form, his face contorted in a wicked mix of ecstasy and pain.

"You came face-to-face with my master. You felt him surround you, cradle you, and now you try to keep that from me? I want to know! I want to know the awe you felt in his presence. I want to see him as you did!" He was in a rage now, far more so than when he questioned me about God and magic, and I feared his next actions might be what Cullach warned me about – opening me up and spilling my entrails.

“I don’t know what I saw,” I whispered.

“You do! You know exactly what you saw! Admit it, you dog!”

“I don’t know what I saw,” I repeated.

“You lie!”

“By God, I don’t know what I saw!” Lorcan’s eyes widened, and at first I thought he was surprised by the force of my words. “You have to believe me.”

“By God?” he said, and I saw the contempt spill from his eyes. “Your Christian God has no power here. None! He’s lost this land, because we have taken it back! And it won’t stop there!”

He began to pummel me. Normally, his punches had the force of a child, but his bony arms and hands hit me with a fury that seemed to add strength to each blow, and his knuckles poked deep into my body with every hit. I was still recovering from whatever lingering effects that dungeon had cursed me with, so I curled myself into a ball and suffered his onslaught.

“The old gods will return! They will lead us back to glory! The Christians will die!”

I suffered his tirade, because it was easier than trying to argue with him. Eventually he tired of wailing on me and he used his stick. The blows came slower, but harder, and more painful, but still I took it. I was tired and weary, and I prayed for him to tire himself out and leave. That’s what would happen, I told myself. Just let him beat me until he has no strength left. Then it will be over.

Sure enough, he stopped, deciding instead to pace back and forth in front of me, scowling, baring his teeth like a wolf. I glanced up at him, like a wounded, beaten dog, hoping that he would cease his punishment. And that’s what he did. He turned away from me, and I finally started to breathe again.

But then he turned to Avaline.

Before I knew it, he’d grabbed her by the arms and lifted her up and over, onto her back. She cried out in surprise, and tried to push him away but her efforts were unfocused and futile. He yanked her dress up, exposing her legs to the thigh.

“No!” I leapt toward Lorcan, but his fist caught me square on my chin and sent me sprawling to the floor, as flashes of light danced before me. I tried to stand back up but then I felt a solid kick to my ribs, the same ones that still hadn’t quite healed from the beating the Vikings gave me, and I fell to the ground like a stone, curled into a ball as pain shot through my body and all the air left my lungs. I gasped, but each breath seemed to take forever.

I heard grunting. I looked over, without thinking, to see Lorcan already on her, her dress and his robe both hiked up, and I turned away in revulsion. I couldn’t let him rape her. I had to stop him, but I couldn't move from this spot on the floor. My chest and my lungs burned, and my body refused to heed any command I gave it to move. So I just lay there instead, staring at the floor, unsure of where my eyes should be. I couldn’t watch him do this to her. But I couldn’t look away as if it wasn’t happening, either. A horrible sickness formed in my gut, and spread all throughout my body. I vomited, and the sheer act of my body tensing caused even more pain to flare through my chest. I cried out and fell back to the floor, whimpering and moaning.

Something moved at the corner of my eye. Avaline’s arm lay on the floor between us, her hand reaching out for me. I stared at it, not sure if I should take it. I looked at her eyes to see them staring back at me, not averting them as she normally did. She wasn’t afraid or angry. Her eyes didn’t have the darkness in them. She only looked to me for reassurance. She needed me. She needed my touch, and her hand vainly grasped for it.

But I couldn’t reach back. I couldn’t take her hand. Not now. She was part of it. Her, Lorcan, the demon, they were all connected, part of this malevolent scheme to corrupt everything I held dear.

I looked in her eyes. Always the eyes. And I saw no trace of evil. Just sorrow.

And I turned away.

After it was done, Lorcan left the tent without a word, and I cried, reveling in my misery until I became numb to it. I no longer had the strength to see this journey through to its end, nor did I want to. I embraced my weakness, and I lay there, ready for death to take me if it so chose. I wouldn’t even fight it. Whatever battle God had chosen for me to take part in, I had lost. And I waited for the gates of Hell to take me, if only to free me from this terrible moment.

*****

I woke the next morning to find myself alone in the tent. I wasn't tied, but I made no attempt to get up or move around. Instead, I laid still on the floor, holding my sore chest, not willing to face the world. What was left to face? Everything was darkness and misery. Everyone was tainted, even me.

Worst of all me.

I thought about last night, and the memory of it churned my insides. I wanted to be sick again, but I wouldn’t. I held on to that sickness, and I let it wash over me, tightening my stomach and chest, burning my cheeks and forehead. I needed the pain and the agony. It was my punishment for failure, not just for letting Lorcan do what he did, but for believing I could ever stop it. Right and wrong held no more meaning. Every step I took in this world, I looked for some shred of hope and justice, only to be reminded that neither existed if men simply chose to ignore them. Now I understood why Arkael left. I’d come here to be part of a war, thinking I could change the unrestrained desires of men. I’d thought this power to heal would be my weapon, and my renewed faith would be my shield. I would stand up against the inherent evil in man, like he had done. But there was no justice. Violence begat violence and death begat death. An endless cycle of terror. Exactly what the demon wanted.

After a while, though, the normal urges of my body crept back in. My stomach rumbled from hunger, my back hurt from lying on the ground, and I didn’t have the energy to continue wallowing in depression without knowing what might be happening in the world outside. So I dragged myself off the ground, and I stood there in the middle of the tent, working up the will to go outside. My eyes, however, found the spot where Lorcan had committed his violation. I don’t know what drew me to it, though, except maybe to mark it in my memory as another reason to hate myself.

Outside the tent I found Sefrid, sitting in her same spot on the ground, scrubbing dishes and pots. A few plates sat next to her with the remains of food on them and my hunger flared again. I frowned at missing lunch, and turned instead to look at the fort across the bay, but just seeing that place made me shiver.

"Sefrid," I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "Where's Avaline?"

Sefrid glanced at me, her probing eyes taking in my disheveled state. "She's with the sorcerer. He took her back to the dungeon."